


The Bitch and the Hellcat

by Zigster



Category: Southern Vampire Mysteries - Charlaine Harris, True Blood
Genre: All Human, Alternate Universe - High School, Beaches, Comedy, Crack, F/M, No telepathy, No vampires, Not to be taken seriously, Surfing, bad musical references, fun times, special brownies, stoners
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-01
Updated: 2013-08-27
Packaged: 2017-11-06 11:42:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 85,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/418502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zigster/pseuds/Zigster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's senior year. Sookie hates Eric. Eric finds Sookie to be a snobby, uptight bitch. The inevitable sexual tension of two horny teenagers ensues. This is their story. </p>
<p>Please forgive grammatical mistakes. This story hasn't been looked over in quite a long time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sookie

I kissed my Gran goodbye that morning and checked my hair in the mirror by the front door. My ponytail didn't seem tight enough, so I pulled at the ends and smoothed it down habitually, before stepping out onto the back porch to head out for the day. Humidity was one of those things I despised. What it did to hair was tragic and horrific. A ponytail was one of my only defenses against the muggy climate that was our town in the summertime. Or, the end of summer to be exact.

The reason for my extra fuss that morning was because of the date, September 2nd. The annual day where you could almost hear every child and teen sigh as they woke up in the morning, dreading to open their eyes. The date that meant a new school year. Kill. Me. Now. Was the first thought I usually had each September 2nd. The beach was still calling my name with the promise of sun and fresh salt air, but so was Senior year. That was something that resinated with me deeply, and only this time did it over ruled my yearn for the beach.

As I stepped off the porch that day, I could only think of one thing...

This will be the last time I have to do this. The last first day. Thank-fucking-god.

\--------

I saw some new cars in the parking lot that perked my interest when I drove in with my old Nova. I loved my car. It was yellow and rusty and classically crappy in that laid back kinda way. The only thing I had splurged on with my car was the stereo. A fancy paint job or automatic windows didn't mean much to me. Hell, working brakes I could even do without, but good tunes were a necessity.

The new cars didn't mean new students, just early graduation presents most likely. On the contrary, we hadn't had a new student for about five years. Don't know why really. No one thinks to move here, only visit during the summertime, to rape us for our beaches and the waves.

My friend Amelia got out of one of the new shiny toys in the parking lot with a big ass smile on her face. Boys were already ogling, some actually drooled. Obviously daddy had pulled through for her 18th birthday. Amelia was destined for the Ivy League, and no way was she not going to show up in style when she got there. That was the deal. She'd make the grades to attend the best schools in the country, but papa had to give her the wheels as incentive.

"Nice ride," I said sliding up to the new GT, running my finger along the shiny paint job. Black. To match Amelia's raven hair. That even now, in muggy ass air was shinny and perfectly smooth. I had no idea how she did it.

"Thanks! Daddy finally came through." She said with relief, as if it were life or death that she'd ever get to have her mustang convertible. (Her dream car since she was five.) I had to hold back a snicker. Amelia sometimes just didn't get that most of the kids in our town didn't have daddies with such deep pockets as hers. Or hell, Daddies period.

I smoothed my hair again, "Come on, lets get in outta the heat. I swear, this damn humidity will be the death of me. Thank god for your father."

"I know, right!?" She responded, and we strolled out of the parking lot, off to the front entrance of our elegant but decaying school.

Amelia's dad had paid for every classroom to be installed with state of the art, eco-friendly air conditioning systems two years ago, after Amelia had "passed out" from supposed heat stroke. The school nurse back then was a new hot med student from a local college, doing his one year requisite internship. Amelia had passed out on purpose for the sole reason of being sent to the new nurse's office. She said she wanted to "introduce" herself to him, and "welcome" him to the school. She had worn a special outfit that day for him even. Amelia, was thorough, if anything.

After about an hour of just Amelia and the hot nurse in the office. In which time he was "reviving" her, Amelia's father called every Lowes Home Center within a 100 mile radius, ordering air conditioners for the entire school, to be delivered that day. If the school board didn't consent to him having them installed, he'd sue for reckless endangerment of his child.

Needless to say, our school had been the coolest one in the state ever since. Literally.

The hot male nurse on the other hand, was fired a month later, when he was caught screwing a junior in the back seat of his car at the inlet. Amelia had been crushed.

For about a minute. But I promised to take her to see the fishing boats come in that night. All the young college boys got jobs on the boats during the different seasons, and I knew for a fact that "slumming it" as she called it, would always bring Amelia out of a sour mood. That night she met a guy nicknamed Marky Mark, due to a certain anitomical similarity to Mr. Walhberg. The two weeks that followed were the happiest of Amelia's life.

I was always good at defusing the drama that Amelia would cook up. The girl did love attention. But, this was high school after all. Our teen years would be nothing without a little drama.

And that was exactly what we saw, as we all made our way towards the main stairs of the school that morning. I knew it was going to happen before he even did. Damn boys and their untied shoelaces. I elbowed Amelia, she had been watching a group of boys playing frisbee on the front lawns. She turned her head just in time.

Bill Compton, the definition of your classic "shitty first lay" and "ancient history" combined, was climbing up the stairs, not paying attention to anything. Idiot. I watched as Bill missed a step, after tripping up on his own shoelace. Guess his mother never taught him to double knot?

His arms flung out, attempting in vain to steady himself as his started to fall forward, unable to control his balance. What he grabbed onto was the leather jacket - Really? In this weather? Come on - of the self inflicted outsider. Eric Northman.

A collective gasp was heard by all who were close enough to see what was happening, right before their eyes.

Ohhh shit.

Everyone fell silent, but it didn't take more than a second. Eric had grabbed onto his hand and took advantage of Bill's forward flowing momentum, by flinging him further into the air and out of his way. It was actually kind of graceful. Eric never stopped moving. If I wasn't so shocked by the crunching noise Bill's body made on the landing, I would have been amazed by Eric's ninja-like skills.

Like most high school kids, on the first day, nothing can hold their attention. Everyone's mind was somewhere else. So, the moment came and it went. Like the jaded beings we were, by the time Bill cried out in pain, most of us had moved on.

Bill was not without his little entourage. For some reason, beyond me, he had a horde of willing freshmen, always vying for his attentions. Well, they'd certainly get them now. He had about three little skanks around him by the the time we got up the stairs. It didn't even cross my mind to worry. Not that I would have. Again, ancient history.

The bell rang and everyone groaned in the hallways like it was the soundtrack to their deaths. Amelia and I parted ways, having different homerooms and I stalked off to start the day. The sooner it started, the sooner it would end. I kept my spirits up by repeating...

My last first day, my last first day, my last first day.

When I entered my assigned homeroom, any good spirits I had managed to muster up in the 30 seconds it took me to get there, died. The infamous Eric Northman was occupying a seat in the back row. His arms were swung back behind his head and his eyes were closed. Ear buds, shoved in his ears.

Kill me, just kill me.

If he wasn't so good looking it'd be easier to hate the bastard. He had lost the leather jacket, which was ironic since we were now all in air conditioned heaven, but now I could see that he was wearing a simple white t-shirt that accentuated his impressive chest and arm muscles. Boy was toned like a mother fucker. It was annoying. To top it off, he had this fabulous alabaster skin - which I'm sure he did nothing to maintain - that matched the pale straw color of his long shaggy hair. Paired with a set of piercing ice blue eyes and you have one good looking bastard on your hands. And that's exactly what I didn't want.

God, why me? I had never liked Eric Northman. He had always rubbed me the wrong way.

Unlike the rest of my classmates, all of whom I'd grown up with in our relatively small town, Eric had only moved here five years back. Normally, that'd be more than enough time to get to know someone, have them assimilate into the town, and socialize with the rest of the people living in it, right?

Wrong. Eric Northman hadn't done any of that. He did what he wanted, when he wanted. He wasn't swayed by the fact that he didn't seem to have any close friendships, even though that would probably depress the hell out of any normal person. In fact he seemed liberated by his lack of personal connections.

He didn't follow any accepted social practice, ever. He didn't give a shit, and some people loved him because of it. In fact, most of the underclassmen in the school secretly idolized him for his total lack of giving-a-shit. I on the other hand, hated him for it.

The principal came over the all call after we had all sat down in our respective new seats. I had successfully snagged a chair up front, away from the hell cat in the back of the room. The principal's scratchy morning voice told us all to stand and salute the flag, as the pledge was chanted throughout the school on the shitty loud speakers.

Senior year and we were still saluting the flag. Some things never changed.

I glanced back, I couldn't help myself, curious to see if Eric had actually stood like I knew he wouldn't. He didn't, I was right.

He was lounging across three seats in the back of the room, his long legs draped over the desks in a haphazard elegant way. He saw me staring and gave me a wink as the pledge was winding down. I sneered at him. He had a cigarette behind his ear and brought it to his lips.

My mouth dropped open. Seriously? He wouldn't dare! No, in fact he most certainly would.

I couldn't believe it. It was like watching a trainwreck. I couldn't look away.

"... and to the republic..."

Out came his zippo next, he flicked open the metal top and gave me a look, daring me to snitch. Like I would ever stop this insanity from happening. But still, this was just dumb.

"... for which it stands...."

"Don't do it!" I mouthed to him. He merely leered back at me.

"... one nation..."

He rasped the lighter to life with his thumb.

"... under God..."

That was the kicker. Flick. He lit the cigarette, pulling in a drag as the end of it glowed red from the flame, his strong cheekbones becoming even prominent as he inhaled.

People were still saying the pledge around us. Only a few had caught on to the smell of smoke in the room. Eric's eyes flashed with devious intent the next second. My hand dropped from its position over my heart at that point, and I fully turned to face the back of the room. A few kids followed suit. The teacher was oblivious.

What was he doing now?

He shot up in one fluid movement. Standing on the chair of his desk, paired with his intimidating height, he almost reached the high ceilings of the old school. He gave me a wink - I winced - before turning his face up and blowing a steady stream of smoke towards the sprinkler system above him.

"... for liberty, and justice for all." At that, the room exploded into a monsoon of water. Well, at least I knew now that the ancient sprinkler system worked, as I was instantly drenched in freezing artificial rain. Four years and never once had I seen it kick into action.

Alarms and screams sounded throughout the school. People grabbed purses and notebooks, finding anything that could cover them from the spray. I just stood in disbelief. Any hope I had for beating the humidity in the fight against my hair now seemed futile. I was soaked.

We hadn't even finished homeroom, and Eric Northman had managed to have the entire school evacuated before the beginning of first period.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Zogs "Sex Wax" is a brand of wax you use to crud up surfboards, so you don't slip off and eat it when you're in the water. They're about the size of a hockey puck. Just so you get a visual.
> 
> Swedish phrases:
> 
> Flö - move it!
> 
> Dra - Fuck off
> 
> Aldrig i helvete - No fucking way
> 
> Subba - Bitch
> 
> Yah, I know. My boys curse a lot. LOL
> 
> Annnd on with the show... Eric POV

"Bro! Wake up! There's a swell comin' in, it's gonna be tighter than a virgin's pussy. Oo yes."

That was the first thing I heard that morning. Course, that was right after something hard and blunt hit me, square in the back of the head. Alerting me to consciousness from one crazy ass dream I was having. I groggily and reluctantly sat up in my pile of tangled sheets, pillows and blankets to see what the hell it was, and to prevent another one from being hurled at me. It hurt like a mother.

I found the offending and painful object near my left knee. I picked it up and stared at it in disbelief. "You threw a Mr. Zogs at my head? Not cool bitch." Talk about a rude awakening.

"Desperate times yo, Flö!" My brother said, talking too loud on purpose, knowing my morning grog was still in full swing. Douche. He was threatening to throw another wax cake at my head. If he did, I swear, I'd palm the bitch and chuck it right at his sack.

I rubbed my face with my hand, willing my eyes to stay open. "Once again, your desecration of the English language is astounding."

"Dra," he said turning around and walking out of my room with a smirk. I threw the Mr. Zogs at a pile of laundry in the corner and stood up to check my phone. It was telling me that today was September 2nd. Shit.

Sighing heavily, I accepted the inevitable. I knew it had to come some time. Summer was officially over, the swells and my brothers would have to wait, because senior year loomed ahead of me. Like the 4th horsemen of the apocalypse. The other three being the freshman, sophomore and junior year of my American schooling. But after this year, no more. Thank-fucking-god.

I heard the front door open and close downstairs. Burger wasn't kidding. He wad heading out. Boy was dedicated.

First thing's first though, I had to get some food in my stomach. It was growling like a beast. I'd deal with the situation in my pants later. Was it camping season already? Damn.

I trudged to the door of my room and threw it open, walking out into the bright sun lit hallway of my brother's house. I loved this place. It was open and airy with high ceilings and large windows that looked out on the water. This house was never dark.

We lived on the edge of town, right where the bay met the ocean, and our front porch and upstairs deck literally looked out onto both. We were the last house on the block, and the only thing lying between us and the soothing warm sand of the beach was the street. We were always the first ones paddling out on the best days. First dips, always. It was the way we rolled.

I had always lived near water. It was apart of life to me. I had never been as taken with the surfing life as much as my brothers were; I just liked how calming the water could be. It kept me from thinking about the big bad most of the time. And I loved the way it looked here. The jetty on the beach curved out elegantly into the water, separating the bay from the ocean. Like a tail coming off the mainland, and the view was always unobstructed. Perfect. All I had to do was walk out the front door early enough, and I could catch a front row seat to an amazing sunrise. With an encore each and every morning.

Welcome to the good life.

Both of my brothers were pro surfers. We had all grown up snowboarding back in Sweden, but when we moved here, my brother's and I switched up our decks to boards, in order to accommodate the warmer climate. We'd still take road trips up north every winter to grind the slopes, but for the most part, we were just plain ol' water rats. My eldest brother, Burger had even snagged a fancy ass endorsement deal with Red Bull. Ingmar's contract was pending. In other words, we were living pretty comfortably on our own. I didn't mind it either. We had been orphans for six years now. We learned how to deal with it together. That was that.

\-------

Pulling into the parking lot of the school was, as always, another way for the general population of the students to show off. I myself, had been driving a '67 Impala for the past two years. Ever since I had won it off of a douche named Dean the summer of sophomore year. Never go up against me in a game of cards. Douche learned the hard way, and I took his baby, it was now mine.

I didn't give a shit if it was a showy car or not, I loved it. I wasn't making a statement, I wasn't driving it for status. I was driving it because it took corners like a pair of hip-huggers on Penleope Cruz, and I could accelerate to an obscene speed with the slightest touch of my foot to the pedal. Plus, it was basically free. A beautiful thing. My baby.

Still, I saw several new rides parked in familiar spots. It seems Amelia Broadway finally got her daddy to give in and buy his princess a new Mustang. Good for her. She hadn't shut up about it... ever. And I didn't even know her. I heard her bitchin from afar, and it annoyed the hell out of me.

With a final sigh of acceptance, I unfolded myself from my car and threw my leather jacket on. It was as hot as the seventh layer of hell out, but still, if my car was my baby, my leather jacket was my bastard child. I couldn't get rid of it, and never wanted to.

I saw Sookie Stackhouse sliding up to Amelia's new ride, wearing a flowing hippie-like, sun dress and smiling. She was so pretty when she smiled, too bad I hardly ever got to see it. Bitch hated me. Bitch was also the subject of my rather fucked up dream last night. Not gonna go there. Not only did I wake up to a Mr. Zogs being hurled at my head, I also woke up to a roaring case of morning wood, pressing painfully into the mattress.

There were so many levels of wrong with that situation, I couldn't even pump one off in the shower. That was one of the things that got to me about living with just my brothers. If you showed up at the kitchen table pitching a tent, you wouldn't live it down for at least a week. Good thing they were both MIA by the time I got to the kitchen this morning. I just didn't want to hear it. Or deal with it. At all.

I groaned to myself, rubbing my face in my hands and trudging ahead, away from the parking lot and the person who had haunted my dreams last night. The Bitch.

You should really stop calling her that, my conscience spoke deep from inside the recesses of my mind. The stray considerate thought actually made me pause; I was so shocked by it. I was on the main steps of the school by then, and almost didn't notice the random douche, who was currently trying to cling onto my jacket, like it was his life line.

Not now yo, not now.

Without even thinking I went all ninja on the guy, using his forward falling momentum to fling him even further. No one grabs onto me like that. Seriously, he was asking for it. That was just rude.

I didn't even look back. I was too distracted. I pulled out a cigarette from my pack of Camels and slid it behind my ear. Having long hair sometimes really was helpful. Today I had tried to tame it back into a ponytail, but pieces of it were still falling all over, too short to fit into the tie at the base of my neck. Whatever.

In homeroom, I put my ipod buds in my ears and leaned back in my seat, lounging my legs on the one in front of me, listening to the soothing sounds of Terry Reid. He always did the trick of calming me down.

I only opened my eyes for a second, while shifting in my seat, and what I saw when I did pissed the hell out of me. Sookie Stackhouse was walking into my homeroom, looking all holier-than-thou and shit. I think I even saw her glare at me. That decided it; I had to cut this day short. I had to run off to the beach, float out past the break and think this shit through.

The pledge of allegiance was starting. I made it a point to not actually ever participate in such a thing. I didn't have anything against the states, in fact, I loved it here. But saluting a flag just wasn't my bag. Plus, it wasn't even my flag.

Sookie took that moment to look back at me, giving me a condescending stare. I just smirked back at her, giving her a wink for good measure. I knew it'd piss her off. Despite her bitch like tendencies towards me, she could be cute when she looked pissed. Which was often.

I decided to have some fun, an idea forming in my mind. The sprinkler system was right above my head. Maybe I could get everyone out of the dreaded first day? Party at the beach bitches. On me.

I brought my cigarette out from behind my ear and put it to my lips. Sookie looked appalled. I had to hold back a laugh. I continued to bait her as the pledge winded down. Threatening to light the cigarette, she even mouthed "don't do it" to me at one point. One of the only non-judgmental things she had ever actually said to me, I noted.

Too late though, my mind was set. I lit the cigarette and then did one better. I knew Sookie was watching, why not give her a show? I jumped up on my chair, and blew a steady stream of heavenly nicotine filled smoke towards the sprinklers.

Bam! Let it rain.

The sprinklers burst to life, and every single student in the classroom was instantly soaked. I jumped down from my perch just in time. Fortunately, the teacher didn't see me, maybe I could get out of this unscathed. I dropped my now equally soaked cigarette with a sigh. Such a waste, but a worthwhile one at least.

I glanced over at Sookie one more time, wondering if she'd snitch. She looked frozen in thought, not even scrambling to cover herself from the spray, like the rest of the people in the room. She was drenched, and the light fabric of her sun dress clung to her curves in a very appealing way. Suddenly, my morning case of wood was threatening to revisit. If that's wasn't a cue to get the fuck out of there, I didn't know what was.

\----------

"Bro! Long time, no see. Where ya been?" Burger shouted at me from the upstairs deck as I walked up the path to the front door of our house. I had lost the leather jacket, and my shirt. They were currently drying, draped over the seats of my car.

Burger was in his uniform of board shorts and an apron. He refused to change out of his shorts until the first frost of the season. Maintaining that American's were pussies when it came to the cold. I agreed.

The apron was a staple all year round though. Burger always loved to cook. Today he was grilling. In the A.M. My brother was nothing, if not eccentric.

"I was at school yo, didn't you get the memo?"

"Oh man! That was today? Aldrig i helvete... Why you out so early?"

I smiled up at him. "There was a small fire. No one got hurt, just wet."

"Nice bro! You got a wet t-shirt contest on the first day of school! I'm jealous." He waggled his eyebrows at me. I had to laugh.

"I'm proud of you, subba," Ingmar said to me from a corner of the deck I couldn't see from my lower position on the ground; sounded like someone was finally waking up from last nights activities. I trudged up the rest of the path, onto the porch and in the front door.

I'd change out of my wet jeans - chaffing was not something I needed right now - eat some kick ass teriyaki I smelled my brother cooking, and figure out my plan for tomorrow. I couldn't just set off the sprinklers everyday of senior year could I? Nah, I had to think about this in the practical sense.

Then again, why was I even thinking about this at all? There was nothing to think about. There was no "this" period. I'd go to school, and I'd do what I do. Just like I had done every other year I'd been living here. One stupid ass dream wasn't going to change that.

Denial, table for one, the little voice in the back of my head said again.

Dra little voice, dra.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Swedish curse index part duex:
> 
> Knullnylle - fuckface
> 
> Ditt jävla rövhål - (something like "you asshole!" but I've forgotten now)
> 
> This chapter starts two weeks into the school year.

Sookie

Shit, I was late. The one day I wanted to be on time was the day Gran decided to let our neighbor Terry borrow my car. No self respecting senior actually road a bike to school, let alone allowed themselves to be seen on a bike off season.

Unless it was summer time, and the parking at the beach was a nightmare, was the only acceptable time. Plus, it allowed all the environmental posers to get up on their high horses saying how "green" they could be, by riding bikes to the beach. Meanwhile, parked at home in their driveways were SUV's and Hummers. Yah. Idiots.

This was horrible though. Not only was I going to be late for the first test of the school year, I was also going to be sweaty, flushed, and out of breath. Kill me. I may not have much money to spend on clothes, but anyone could make sure that their clothes were clean and pressed. Being unkempt is something I just didn't allow myself to be. And I was most definitely going to be mussed by the time I got to school. Shit.

I rounded the corner, turning onto a small back residential road that led up to the caffeteria of the school. I could sneak in the back way and no one would see what particular mode of transportation I was riding that day. Perfect.

That was the plan anyway, except, the second I rounded the corner my bike slammed into the back of someone's car, that had been parked too close to the curb of the turn. On impact, my hips went flying into the handle bars and my head flew forward.

"Fuck!" I shouted.

"What the...?" The owner of the car was stepping out, almost immediately after I had hit it. Great, not only had I hit someone's car, they were in it when it happened.

Oh, kill me now. Seriously.

When that blond head had appeared out of the driver's seat, I put two and two together and almost fled on instinct.

I had rammed into Eric Northman's Impala. Shit, that was just a travesty. I mean, I hated the guy, but his car was a classic. I actually felt guilty. I was about to bend over, to check for damages when Eric said the magic words...

"What the hell are you doing!?" He shouted, and suddenly my guilt subsided. I backed up, making sure my bike was still in working order, before jumping back onto the seat and readying my foot on the pedal.

"Oh, get bent Northman." I spat back at him and rode off, not even bothering to look back.

Hopefully I hadn't caused too much damage. That car was a beautiful machine. No matter who drove it. I really hope I hadn't scratched it.

\-----

Sure enough when I got to the school, my face was a hot flushed mess. Not to mention the rest of me. I felt completely inadequate. My hair was frizzy from the humidity of the day, my clothes were wrinkled from riding that insipid bike, and my hips felt like I had just gone 7 rounds on a mechanical bull. God damn handle bars. Yah know, if its not a pair of strong hands grasping on to you, it just isn't worth it.

I walked up to my first period classroom, having sufficiently missed homeroom, and peeked in. Sure enough, the timed essay was in full swing. Every desk held a blue little book, with a frantic student scribbling above it.

Ugh, I just didn't want to deal with it today. I made my decision, then and there. I turned on my heal and headed for the girls bathroom on the second floor, were I'd wait out the rest of the period. I'd make up the essay whenever I could get the chance, and everything would be fine.

Course, all that changed when I opened the door to the stairwell. Right there in front of me was Mr. Stewart, bald head shinning away under the florescent lights, double fisting his morning cup of coffee and Boston cream doughnut. I was toast.

"Skipped homeroom Stackhouse, and now my test? Detention. After school, don't be tardy."

Shit! He didn't even give me a chance to try and flirt with him to get out of it. "But sir..."

"No buts girl, just be there. You'll be taking your make up test with Northman as well, since he seems to be MIA today too."

It was settled. God hated me. Detention and Northman? Good grief. If only this school were more than two stories high, I'd jump off the roof.

\-------

I had stressed the rest of the day about having to do my make up test in the constant presence of Eric Northman. He'd probably be doing distracting things the entire time and my resulting essay would be about an annoying boy with long blond hair. Not exactly A+ material.

Some relief came at lunch when my neighbor Terry, showed up with the keys to my car jingling in his hand. His hair looked windblown, and his face scruffy, but he was calm and happy, I noted with relief. Terry was an Iraqi war vet, and I always worried when he was having one of his "off" days. Gran did all she could to make sure that he stayed happy, hence letting him borrow the car whenever his truck broke down. Today he seemed to be fine. He dropped off the keys, gave me a quick brotherly kiss on the head and glided away on the bike I had cursed so much that morning, looking more content than I had ever seen him. Guess his need for my car this morning went well?

I was feeling good that Terry seemed happy, as I ate my sandwich at the picnic benches outside our school; humming along to a song I had in my head, when Amelia had to go and ruin it by mentioning my detention with Eric later. I wanted to punch her.

"Thanks bitch, I had just managed to forget about that."

"Hey don't be bitter, he's fun and you know it." She said back, while eyeing a smudge on her perfectly manicured nails.

"Fun? Fun!? My cell phone is still on the fritz because of that little rain shower he started on the first day. That's fucking inconvenient, not fun."

Amelia smirked and then shrugged, "He's hot."

"Doesn't matter. Ugh, he just gets under my skin."

"Denial much?" Amelia said, and looked way too smug for her own good. I decided to ignore what she meant by saying I was in denial. I was just pissed I had to make up the test. No denial. Not here.

\------

When the end of school rolled around, I stalked back to Mr. Stewart's classroom to go through my punishment. But, when I got there, I found that Eric was MIA. I hadn't seen him at lunch that day either. But that was normal. Most students took the lunch period to hit the beach for a good 20 minute tanning session, or to catch some waves. Eric's brothers were pro surfers, so I just assumed that he was one of those people.

Nope. No Eric. Maybe he was just late? He would pull something like that. Being late to a detention.

Ten minutes passed. No Eric.

Fifteen minutes passed. Half my essay was done. Still no Eric.

When a half hour came around, and I had finished my essay, I slammed the blue little booklet closed in frustration. My loud disturbance in the silent room jerked Mr. Stewart awake. He made a horrible gurgling noise, scratched his balls - so not appropriate - and gave me an annoyed glare. As if me interrupting his nap/ball scratching session was something I was going to feel guilty about. No, something else was plaguing my thoughts.

Where the hell was Eric?

Why the hell do you care? A tiny voice at the back of my head said.

I gasped in my chair, and practically jumped out of it. Realizing that I had actually been waiting for him. But why? I hated Northman. He was rude, and crude, drove a showy car and just this morning had yelled at me! Granted, I had slammed into his "baby" as he referred to it, but that point was moot anyway. He shouldn't have yelled.

I sighed in my chair, giving my essay one more read through for typos and grammatical errors. It's not like I had a bell sounding the end of the period to worry about. Mr. Stewart had fallen back asleep, I could take my time.

Which I did. But ten minutes later, after a second read through of the essay, the bastard still hadn't shown up, and I was pissed at that little voice in my head that sounded so damn smug. It had reason I supposed though. Maybe I was waiting for him. But only to give him hell for raising his voice to me. Did his brother's teach him nothing about how to treat women?

I stood up from my desk, crept to the front of the class, where Mr. Stewart sat drooling and placed it gently down on his desk. I then tip-toed quietly out of the classroom and off to the parking lots of the school. I wanted to regroup and figure out why I had just wasted almost an hour of my time waiting for a hell cat with an attitude problem.

When I reached my car, I rolled down all the windows, kicked off my flip-flops - I hated wearing shoes more than was legally necessary - and turned up my stereo.

The Animals - House of the Rising Sun. Nice.

As I threw the car into drive, I allowed myself to pretend for a second that I was on a road trip down to New Orleans. Amelia and I had made plans for Jazzfest this year. But that wasn't until April. I turned off the back road and onto the main drag that headed away from the school, pushing all thoughts of New Orleans from my head. It wasn't my main quandary today.

Within minutes I was driving over to the edge of town, where the bay met the ocean. On the bayside lay the inlet. My sanctuary. Normally, I'd only go there on nights I couldn't get to sleep right away, or to go watch sunrises in the mornings I was up too early. It was a meditative like place. The soothing sounds of the gentle waves lapping at the rocks always righted me. It would always clear my head, and I loved it.

\-----

Eric

I used to never remember my dreams. I knew that I had them of course, everyone dreamed. Your eyes do that crazy moving around thing once you hit the R.E.M. cycle, and your brain creates images for them to look at. It's fascinating, and kind of trippy, and was a constant interest to my brothers.

They had spent many nights, and many types of mind-altering drugs, trying to achieve lucid dreaming in the past. And I can say with full certainty, that if you mixed a good stoned buzz off some haze, with a touch of angel dust in the bowl; you will wake up feeling like Salvador-fucking-Dali. However, the day after is a bit disheartening. Case in point; watching your brother tweak, while running around with a crazy ass mustache - I have no idea where he got it - and wide eyes, threatening to "paint your soul" with a spatula. That's hilarious for about five seconds in total.

Stay off drugs kiddies.

Regardless, I used to never remember them. I was fine with that. Sleeping was for rest, that was that.

I just couldn't allow myself to think that I'd spent upwards of six to seven hours a night in a void of constant darkness. That would send me into a panic attack. I was not a fan of the dark. Too many bad memories were had in the dark. Too many negative associations.

Still, I loved sleep. My god was it glorious. And my non-dream like nights were the status quo, until that first damn day of school. I had no idea why my subconscious suddenly decided to kick into over drive, but I wanted to kick it right back into submission. Why now? Seriously. Inconvenient didn't cover it.

For the past two weeks it was almost always the same damn dream. With basically the same damn taunts and teases, with the same damn result of me waking up confused, sweaty and hard as a fucking rock. I realized that I was a teenager, and hormones were normal, but this was just getting out of hand. And I really started missing having a hot breakfast. I was spending so much time in the bathroom "calming down", I almost always got the kitchen after the eggs, oatmeal or crepes Burger had cooked were cold.

I loved my brothers. They were the best a guy could ask for, but boys will be boys, and they didn't wait for shit. Especially after the first few days, in which they attempted to be courteous. Courteous meaning, shouting at me from the kitchen, saying "get the hell out of the bathroom already!"

Teenagers may be hormonal bastards, but we're hungry hormonal bastards. Two weeks of cold breakfasts sucked an agitated geriatric's blue wrinkled balls sack.

In other words, this had to stop.

I just had no way of figuring out how to stop it.

I couldn't think about it anymore at the house. My room felt tainted by her, and I was going to be late for school if I didn't head out soon.

So, there I sat. In my car, on a small back road that led up to the school's cafeteria; pondering. How do I make this strange and fucked up routine stop? I didn't want to share this rather embarrassing situation with my brothers either. They'd never let me live it down. I was stuck.

I sighed heavily and leaned forward to rest my head on the steering wheel of my baby, trying to desperately find a solution to my problems, when BAM! A huge bang sounded behind me. My car even jolted a bit. Was the sky falling? Seriously, I couldn't deal with all this right now.

I got out to see what happened, the jolt and noise had been pretty substantial.

"What the...?" I was saying before seeing the culprit of said, jolt. Sookie Stackhouse had literally slammed into my Impala with her bike. A bike that looked like it came from the turn of the century, it was so ancient.

Sookie had a car, what the hell was she doing on a bike? And hitting my baby with it!? Was she joking?

"What the hell are you doing!?" I shouted at her and instantly regretted it. I was loud. Too loud, and my voice was raspy and harsh, thanks to my new routine of less than four hours a night, because of those damn dreams. I didn't get a chance to apologize for it my decibel level though. Her concerned face turned fierce the second I had opened my big ass mouth. The damage was done.

"Oh, get bent Northman!" She spat at me, riding off the next second, not even looking back. Wow, she could be such a bitch. I hated when she called me Northman. She made it sound like the ugliest word in the world.

I liked my last name too. I stood there feeling like an abused puppy, allowing myself to wallow at the kick to my ego.

I didn't wallow for too long though, my baby had just been hit. My ego could wait. I had to go check and make sure no real damage was had. If she scratched the paint on my car, so help me... I don't care how cute she looked in her little thank top and madras shorts, or how sorry I was for shouting, I'd kill her and make it look like an accident.

The paint was fine, but sure enough, there in my back fender, marring the smooth shiny surface, was a small dent from her bike. The perfect, mirror like reflections of my back bumper were now scarred. I almost wanted to cry.

I didn't, but wanted to.

I crouched down on the balls of my feet and rubbed my thumb over the offending dent; sighing heavily at the sight. Two years, and not a scratch. Now, after the two most stressful weeks I'd had in years, there was a dent in my baby.

I actually growled in anger. This girl, nay, this woman had infiltrated the very private confines of my subconscious mind. Teasing me each night to the breaking point, and now the bitch had dented my fender? Fuck that.

I slumped back into the front seat and slammed the door shut in defeat. I had been so caught up in figuring out what to do in the privacy of my car, on the secluded back road, I had forgotten about the time. It was well into first period by now. I couldn't even pretend to be late at this point.

Fuck that too. I'd skip. What was today anyway? A timed essay exam? Crap. No wonder Sookie was flying around on that ancient contraption like a bat out of hell. She was late too.

I allowed that little piece of information to sooth me as I leaned my head back on the seat. Sookie would be sweaty and late for a test. That'd piss her off to no end. I knew for a fact that she liked being on time, and that she liked to look presentable when she got there. Everyone knew that about her. Even an "outsider" like me.

Karma's a bitch, ain't it? I laughed to myself and turned on the stereo. Otis Reading was singing his soul on a local station. Nice, I thought to myself and let the music flow through me.

\-----

Knock, knock, knock.

I shifted away from the offending noise. Was it possible for knocking to sound bored? Because those did.

Whatever. I didn't have time to think about that. I was currently pulling on a blonde ponytail I had wrapped my hand around. Putting all of my aggression into giving Sookie the ride of her life.

I had one hand braced on the ponytail, the other was holding her shoulder, as I thrusted repeatedly into her. I pulled her up so her back was flat against my chest, and her head flew back over my neck, as I let go of her hair and dipped my hand down between her legs.

I breathed into her ear, "do you like it like that?" Punctuating my words with thrusts.

"God, yes!" She responded, breathlessly.

"God's not here Sookie," I responded, biting her ear. She just ground into my hips further. I released her and she fell forward onto her elbows again.

She was moaning and whimpering in the most intoxicating way, and we were both panting like a set of old dogs dying on a hot day. Each time I'd give her hair a tug, she'd yelp a little bit more, adding a "yes!" for good measure. It was fucking fabulous.

Dream Sookie liked it rough, and I didn't mind in the slightest giving it to her that way. I had never actually fucked her before in my dreams. She would just show up and tease the hell out of me. With either sexy outfits, or just her damn ass attitude, with the sex appeal jacked up to a hundred. Whenever I got close she'd vanish, and I'd wake up. Rock hard and fucking frustrated. But this time... this time she had jumped on me. Practically begging for it. How could Dream Me resist?

We were in my bed. Well Sookie was. On all fours to be exact. I was behind her, standing. The curves of her beautiful tanned back, arching and contorting as she writhed beneath me.

Alllllmost there. I thrust harder. She screamed out, "yes Eric! My God!" And I smirked above her. God really wasn't going to help her. She should stop asking.

Knockknockknock!

Kay, that just sounded fucking annoying now. Someone was knocking on the bedroom door. I looked over my shoulder, and shouted "Go away!"

"Wake up knllnylle!" They shouted back.

What? That wasn't my brother's voice.

My eyes shot open and I flew forward in my seat. My face was sweaty and my jeans were extra tight. Shit. Where was I? The radio was still on, and there was a steering wheel in front of me. I'm in my car?

Knockknockknock!

I looked over.

"Pam!" I rolled down the window, shocked to see probably the only acquaintance I actually took time to keep in touch with, besides my brothers. Obviously. "What the hell are doing here?"

She smirked down at me in her perfectly perfect wrap dress, complete with matching headband, and probably a fresh-off-the-runway designer dead cow sack. "Cursing you for making that kind of noise, and not being on top of me while you do it."

"Yah, you still sound like a Russian prostitute when you try and speak Swedish. Don't."

"Fine, fuck you. Better?" She said, arching her eyebrow.

"Much," I said as I rubbed my hand over my face, forcing myself to calm down. I was straining in my pants, and it was fucking painful.

"What devilishly delicious dream were you having to have that," she gestured at my pants, "occur?"

I groaned. "You don't want to know. In fact, thank you for waking me."

"Don't thank me too quickly. I got her about ten minutes ago. You were just so animated, I had to watch the show. You were the first thing that's held my attention these past two weeks."

"Animated?" I asked, dreading what she'd respond with.

"You were gyrating your hips like Elvis on a cocaine binge Eric, and at one point you slapped the steering wheel. I'm assuming that was some Random's ass?"

"Ditt jävla rövhål!" I shouted.

Pam just stared back at me with a small smirk on her face. "Don't call me an asshole. You're lucky I woke you up before you jizzed in your pants there loverboy."

"Fine." I checked the dash to see the time. It was 2PM. The only period left was gym. Fuck that.

"Why aren't you in class?" I asked.

"Substitute. Plus, you know I never do gym. Sweating is something I don't tolerate."

"You didn't seem to mind sweat two summers ago," I said offhandedly, as I readjusted my jeans.

"I made an exception for that gracious plenty of yours." She said, eyeing my pants again. I was getting uncomfortable with all the looks.

"Pam, go find a freshman to fuck, I have to get out of here."

"Likewise Eric." And with a small wave, and a flip of golden brown hair, she stalked off, looking like she was walking down a runway, not a small town street.

I revved my engine and shot off, heading towards the inlet to calm down and regroup.

Normally this would just be a "back porch" problem, as my brothers and I liked to call it. Well, it wouldn't be a desperate back porch problem, but it might warrant some mellowing out.

When my brothers and I would get too stressed or upset for our own good, we'd go, throw on a pair of shades, and light up the fire pit out back.

I'd then sit with my brothers, listening to them strum and pluck their guitars for hours on end. Sometimes drinking beers to help level us out. It's what we did to stay sane. All of our emotions would come through in the music, and for us, it worked better than speaking the words most of the time. So many more feelings would come out in the rhythms, that we couldn't even attempt to hide.

We had done it ever since our parents had died. That very night even; Burger had had his guitar with him, and apposed to crying, he played. We all just sat and listened. It was just another way that we all communicated.

If I was really stressed, I'd join in myself. The soothing sounds of the music lulling me into a calm reverie. One in which I could think and shift through the many different layers of shit in my head. But today, I was too damn distracted and worked up from my dream. I wouldn't be able to strum a guitar if I wanted to, let alone attempt to sit still without jumping out of my skin.

The inlet would be my medicine today. The lapping water was never as soothing as the gentle rhythms of the guitar. Then again, a big part of me didn't want this to become a "back porch" problem. It wasn't. That meant it was an actual thing.

There was no "thing" going on here.

Just my hormones. That was that.


	4. Chapter 4

Eric

The inlet was pleasantly quite, and as always, calming. The fishing boats had of course, all left for the day early that morning. They wouldn't be back till sundown, and most kids were just getting out of school, so none of them would be out on their boats so soon. As a result, there was no extra traffic was flowing through the slightly choppy waters that led out to the ocean, as I pulled up to park in one of the spots adjacent to the water's rocky edge.

In the mornings, I'd be lucky to get a spot here - hence why I preferred my front porch to watch the sunrise on - but right now, at mid day, it was almost deserted and perfect. Only a lone fisherman stood by the sandy rocks just beyond the small lot. In his cooler I saw the flipping tails of blue fish. At least someone was having a productive day, I thought.

The unofficial parking lot of the inlet; the one that all the fishermen, contractors, sight seers and anyone who wanted to just come and experience the calming view, or drink their morning cup of coffee in collective peace, belonged to a now vacant, massive old house. It's exterior walls had grayed with age and the constant onslaught of the salty air. It looked like a lazy ghost, haunting the inlet with only its presence, as the boats sailed past it each day and night. It was a sad landmark, but a constant one. It looked over the idle cars each day, and I think in a way, helped us all feel reassured. I didn't know what it was about the melancholy old place, but it certainly added to the soothing nature of the spot.

The house had been converted to many things over the years, most notably an ice cream shop and deli combined. It was a favorite amongst the locals - who would stop by to order sandwiches before heading out for a day on the water - and the one establishment I got to experience when I had moved here, before it closed down for good. I have no idea why it was shut down, but it never stopped the locals or general passers by from showing up and enjoying the view.

That's exactly what I was doing for a good twenty minutes before the sound of loud oppressive music started to infiltrate the peace of the scene. The sea gulls left their perches on the rocks and light posts in a flurried escape, while the lone fisherman turned his baseball cap covered head in the direction of the disturbance.

I groaned to myself, knowing who it was before she even rounded the corner. I know I was just imagining things, but it seemed as if even the small white caps on the water picked up as the blasted music got closer.

Shit.

Sookie Stackhouse and her impressively loud (obnoxious) car stereo were within a five mile radius. Everyone scatter.

I rubbed my hands over my face, and leaned back in the seat with my eyes closed. Feeling defeated and maybe a little bit cursed. This girl had somehow managed to ruin two of my hiding spots within an 8 hour period. Was nothing sacred to this woman?

The music was getting louder, she was getting closer. I started to count down the seconds as if they were the few moments left before my doom.

"3....2...1.... fuuuck," I whispered to myself. Sure enough, as soon as I was done, she had pulled up next to my car, and threw her own into park with a little too much force. I could hear the creaking protest in the clutch. I wasn't ready to open my eyes yet. Maybe I was just having another dream?

Please, please let this be a dream.

The music was lowered, and the engine was cut. Thank god. Everyone enjoys a good listening session to The Animals every once in a while, but some music was meant to be mellow, not loud. Sookie didn't seem to understand that.

I chanced a peek at her through my right eye, only opening it a sliver. She had the steering wheel in a death grip, and was breathing heavily; like she had just attempted a 5 mile run or something. She wasn't looking my way, or even at the water. Instead she seemed to be intensely and intently studying the button for the horn on the wheel. I quirked an eyebrow at her.

Why was she still upset?

It had been hours since I saw her. Surely she would have calmed down by now. Having that kind of anger for that amount of time just isn't healthy.

I hoped high blood pressure didn't run in her family, cause if so, she be screwed.

Sookie wasn't talking, she wasn't doing much of anything but heaving. I closed my one eye and went back to pretending to be asleep, since the sight of her heaving chest was more appealing than I would have liked to admit.

Five minutes passed. Neither of us spoke. It was almost peaceful. Almost. But I knew it wouldn't last for long, and a few minutes later, Sookie cracked.

"Where. Were. You?" She asked, all clipped and angry like.

I was about to answer with "here" before realizing that Sookie wondering about my whereabouts was not normal. I picked head my up off where it lay against the back of the seat. I had been shlunched down and rather comfortable until she showed up.

"What do you mean?"

"We had detention with Mr. Stewart, and you weren't there!" She said, her voice raising in volume slightly. She still didn't look at me, but her eyes did shift to the front bummer of my car.

"We?" I asked tauntingly.

"Yes, We!" She spat back at me, finally meeting my eyes in the process. "We were both late, so We missed the test. Then, We were given detention!" She had dropped her hands from the wheel and was doing the universal sign for quote marks with her fingers each time she said "we".

"Okay fine. So, I skipped. I never even made it to school. Why do You care?" I said, punctuating the singular. This was not a "we" conversation. She had infiltrated my peace. She had started speaking. She, she, she...

Her hands flew to her hair in frustration. Mussing her perfect ponytail at my comment.

Oh god, I was just tugging on that ponytail....

"Because!" She screamed, cutting off my thoughts while furiously looking for a reason, "I wanted to give you hell about... about yelling at me this morning!"

"Yelled at you?" My voice was getting louder by the second. Being in her presence was not good for my self control. "You BANGED into MY CAR with YOUR BIKE!"

Any guilt I had from before in regards to raising my voice had slipped away. This girl just didn't know when to shut up and apologize.

We were both breathing heavily by then. I stared her down, and she stared right back. Apparently we had come to a crossroads in the argument? One of us would have to break the silence, and it sure as hell wasn't going to be me.

Actually, it wasn't go to be either of us. About a minute later the old fisherman came hobbling by, walking right in between our two parked cars and our seething faces.

"You two either need kill each other, or fuck. Either way, I hope you work it out," and with a wave of his hand and slight lingering sent of fish, he just walked away.

Well, that was fucking blunt.

We both followed his retreating form with our eyes. I was slightly awed, Sookie looked disgusted. That only pissed me off more. As if I were actually that revolting to her. Knowing her standards? Please. The girl had dated Bill-douchebag-Compton.

I turned to face forwards again, and forced myself to look at the water and calm down. The white caps from before had now quieted. The current of the water looked smooth and gentle. Serene. How ironic.

"What are you doing here anyway?" I heard her ask about five minutes later, when both our breathing had steadied.

"Trying to relax. It's not working though. There's a person who keeps bugging the shit out of me."

"Oh me!?" Her voice was insanely high pitched and she sounded offended. Good.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you that you can go deaf from playing music that loud over an extended period of time?" I said, changing the subject, as I arched an eyebrow in her direction and nothing more.

"I was trying to clear my head," she said. Still rather clipped. She was on the defensive.

"From what?"

A minute passed. Silence.

"From. What?" I asked again.

"Ugh!" She shook her head. Refusing to answer.

But I wanted to know. Bad.

I got out of my car, rounded the front and leaned on it, facing her driver's side door. I leaned down with my arms folded, forcing her to meet my eyes.

She looked up, probably to glare, but our eyes locked. Her eyes were a mixture of many different, slightly conflicting emotions. Frustration, anger, fatigue and curiosity. Shit. If I were feeling all those things, I'd want to clear my head too.

For some reason, I felt the urge to move closer. So I did, placing my hands on either side of her opened window, and leaning further towards the car. She didn't look away like I thought she might. If anything her eyes became fiercer the more I dared to invade her space.

"Why do you need to clear your head Sookie?" I spoke kindly, in a soft whisper; not wanting to bring out the bitch again.

"Don't you ever just need to sort through the shit in your head?" She said back. Her voice was slightly sarcastic, but not venomous like it had been before.

"More often than I'd like to admit."

She was taken aback by my honesty.

"And you come here to be alone?" She asked, genuine curiosity in her voice.

I smirked. "Yes."

She smirked right back and turned the key in the ignition, firing up her old tin can of car. "Well, then you'll understand. When you come here to sort your shit, you don't want to share it with anyone else, do you?"

The question was rhetorical.

With the final word, she threw the car into reverse, broke my hold on her stare, and backed out of the spot. Quickly cutting the wheel and maneuvering out of the parking lot with more finesse than I'd ever expect her to have with a car like hers.

She never looked back.

I stood there, slightly dazed. My hands were still warm from where they were placed on the sun heated metal of her old Nova. I clenched them shut, wanting the warmth to stay for a bit longer.

I didn't turn to get back in my car right away. Instead, I listened.

Several minutes went by, and never once did I hear the blasting sound of her radio cut through the silence of the air.

Before I knew it I was walking up to the front porch of my house, and I was smiling.


	5. Chapter 5

Sookie

When I walked in the back door of my house, leading to the kitchen later that afternoon, Gran was slightly surprised.

"Hey hun, what you doing here so early? You called saying you'd be out late." She said to me in her lilting southern twang, that she'd often sing me to sleep with as a child. I had always loved the sound of her voice.

"I know Gran, but... plans changed." I said, trying to cut back on my aggravation. Gran didn't deserve my spite.

"Oh, I'm sorry to here that. But I'm happy to see you," she said, perking up from her spot at the kitchen table. She was reading a romance novel and I could smell something baking in the oven. Our fat gray cat sat squat in the middle of her lap. Purring away like a dishwasher on the spin cycle.

I sighed in happy relief. The kitchen was my favorite place in the house.

I walked to the sink to do my ritual of washing hands before eating anything after school. The amount of germs running around a high school could paralyze you with worry. Plus, I loved the smell of Gran's homemade ginger orange soap. She had started making it to sell for some extra cash - as apposed to just a hobby - back when my brother Jason and I had moved in.

Gran had been retired for ten years already when my parents suddenly died. She had to think of means to make some extra cash to help support us in anyway possible back then. Her handmade soaps had been a favorite of her friends at church, so she decided to make a profit from it. All the little boutiques and shops along the coast loved to sell her novelty soaps now. But, summer seemed to be the only time we saw any real profit come in.

My Gran had always been good with her hands and making beautiful artisan things. About five years back we had converted the old barn out back to a pottery studio. Gran now also ran a little pottery business on the side. Our neighbor Terry built the kiln himself, using old railway tracks and a coal mining cart to push the dried clay pieces into the kiln with, so Gran wouldn't have to do any heavy lifting. She had been so proud.

I'd often help her whenever I could with the pottery, even though she insisted it was for the best since it helped her sooth the arthritis in her fingers. Still, I loved working with my hands, like her. I felt so productive creating beautiful things that would also be utilitarian. Something that could be creative, but practical. It was the best of both worlds to me.

A grabbed a peach from a bowl on the counter after I was done drying my hands and sat down next to Gran at the table. She put her book down and looked up at me from underneath her reading specs.

"So, how was school? Did Terry return the car?"

"Yah he did. Came at lunch." I said, trying to ignore the first part of the question.

"Oh great. I was worried that he might forget. You know how sidetracked he gets sometimes."

"No he seemed fine. Really good actually."

"Oh, that's great," she said, her voice getting a little creaky as it shifted into an upper register with her excitement.

"Mmmhmmm," I was still staring at my peach. Hoping that the subject of school was done with. Yes Gran, lets just talk about Terry. Please... please...

"But didn't you have a test today that you were worrying on about?"

Crap. I sighed.

"Yah. I did it. I'm sure it'll be fine."

"Me too," she responded with a genuine smile as she patted my hand with her own. The soft wrinkled palm of her hand felt cool on my flushed warm skin. I closed my eyes at the feeling. Happy to be home, surrounded by the calmness of the house, and the soothing presence of Gran.

Now, if only she didn't ask anymore questions, I could end my day on a high note.

She didn't. Thank God. She went back to reading her novel after telling me that dinner would be ready around 7. I told her we could eat out back on the screened in porch since the heat was supposed to break tonight. She agreed.

With dinner plans settled on, I left the kitchen and trudged up to my room on the second floor of our old house. It was hotter than the roasting skin of a pig on a backyard spit up there, but it was quiet. I turned on the fans and the small AC unit in my window to get the circulation of the cold air moving. While it was, I just sat in front of the AC's blast, letting it cool my face.

With my eyes closed, and the cool air of the AC washing over me, my mind drifted. Within minutes I found myself back at the inlet, driving up and parking next to Eric Northman's car.

I had no idea he'd be there. In fact, I was more pissed than a castrated coon dog when I saw him idling in the parking lot. The inlet was my safe haven. My sanctuary. How dare he be there, on this particular day, of all days. Was he trying to drive me insane?

As I pulled up, I couldn't help but notice the small dent in his back bumper. I cringed at the sight of it. It marred the beautiful sleek lines of his car, and I had caused it. It only made me feel worse. After throwing the car into park, I couldn't even look over at him. I was pissed, remorseful, confused and overheated. The combination was not a pleasant group of feelings.

I just had to calm down. Then I could talk to him. Then I could apologize.

But after steadying my breathing, the only thing I could think of to say was asking him where the hell had he been. Why hadn't he shown up at detention? It had been bugging me the entire drive there, and I really, really wanted to know. And that realization really, really pissed me off.

The little voice sounded in the back of my head once again. Why do you care?

I couldn't think of a good reason that didn't make me sound either insane or masochistic.

So, I cracked and asked him. I was stupid though. It was too soon, I should have formed a plan in my head of how to apologize first and then ask him, because I just ended up yelling at him again. And then, like the idiot that I am, I yelled at him for yelling at me, after he finally lost his cool and shouted about me hitting his car. So not only was I being completely idiotic, I was also being hypocritical. Just bad joo joo all around.

He just made me so mad, and I didn't know why! I wanted to apologize, but instead I mouthed off to him like a little brat. It was hopeless.

When he asked me why I was there are the inlet, I froze. Some part of me wanted to spill and explain that I was just having an off day. That it started off badly, and that it just got worse, and that none of it was really his fault.

I had woken up from a dream that morning of my parents walking together hand and hand along a beach somewhere, leaving me behind. I was a child in the dream and I screamed for them to come back but they just laughed with their backs turned to me, so I couldn't see their faces, and walked on. I was so upset by it, even though I knew I was dreaming. I woke up feeling abandoned and cold, despite the sweat on my skin.

I wanted to tell him all that. I wanted to have it burst from me in one long rant, with great detail. But I just couldn't get it out. He asked me a second time, and I shook my head. My frustration once again winning over my powers of civility towards him.

He leaned into my car, his face coming so close to entering into my open window. I was shocked by his slightly brazen movements. His hair fell over his shoulders and the warm smell of his shampoo wafted over me. I could even feel the heat coming off of his body, he was so close. Our eyes had locked and I swear to you, for one insane second I wanted to lean in....

But I nipped that shit in the bud.

During our little frozen-in-time stare down we had managed to speak to each other in rather calm and civil tones. He was being honest and I for once wasn't being a bitch to him. This scared the crap out of me.

The longer I sat there and smelt the warm scent of him, the closer I was to loosing my mind. I had to get out of there. So I regrouped, got snarky and pulled out of there, feeling like I was in the chase scene from French Connection. I was even impressed with my skills.

As I sped away, having an internal freak out for god knows how many reasons, my hand moved towards the dash of my Nova, hovering over the volume for the stereo. I held my fingers, centimeters from it for a good minute before dropping them and throwing the car into a higher gear. I didn't want to blast the music.

And I hated to admit it to myself, but I knew exactly why.

"Sookie!" I heard Gran yell from downstairs and was brought back to reality. My face was practically frozen I had sat in front of the AC for so long, and the rest of me was shivering. I immediately turned it down and answered back.

"Yah, Gran?"

"There's a Cary Grant movie I've never seen before on TMC! Wanna watch it with me before super?"

"Sure," I said rather shakily. Being alone with my thoughts was obviously a problem; I might as well go spend some quality time with my Gran. Plus, Cary Grant's charm was timeless.

It turns out that the film was North by Northwest. Gran had of course seen it before; she had just never seen the beginning bit.

We spent the rest of the evening discussing over dinner the cuteness of the little boy during the cafeteria scene towards the end of the film, when Eve shoots the gun off. Gran had pointed out that you could clearly see him holding his little hands over his ears well before Eve fires off the gun. She clapped her hands in delight when she first noticed; I just sat next to her amazed by her powers of observation.

Gran loved little mistakes in movies liked that. She'd actually try to find new ones each time she'd watch one of her favorites. Like in Last of The Mohicans when all the people and the prisoners are leaving the fort. You can see in one shot, a man in a blue baseball cap and a megaphone conducting their departure. After Gran pointed that out, it almost ruined the whole movie for me. Well, almost. Daniel Day Lewis with long hair is a hard thing to not fawn over.

Long hair...

My breath hitched when that train of thought brought me right back to that afternoon, when Eric's hair was falling down over his shoulders and around his face as he leaned in closer to me. I closed my eyes and inhaled, hoping to smell his shampoo again. Instead, all I sensed was the lingering scent of Gran's ginger soap.

I went to bed that night frustrated as hell. Just because the man had hair that smelt like warm coconut oil, and I felt sorry for damaging his bumper, did not change my opinion of him. I could barely manage to stay civil around him. I screamed at myself internally to get over it, and eventually I fell asleep.

And boy, did I sleep.

The next day, I woke up to the sound of my alarm, having slept like a baby. I had never felt so rested. I stretched my arms above my head and smiled as a yawn escaped my mouth. No bad dreams about my parents. Thank God.

When I had turned on the shower though, and the steam from the hot spray hit me, the memory of the dream I had had last night came back to me instantly. Hitting me like a Mac truck.

"Fuck!" I shouted into my towel.

I had dreamed of lounging on my bed, being perfectly and impractically lazy during the middle of the day. Something I just didn't allow myself to do. Ever. I was being held by two strong warm arms, crossed over my torso protectively. Blond hair with the lingering scent of coconuts blended with my own on the pillow, as I sunk further into the warm coconut encompassing embrace. Savoring ever minute of lethargic joy.

I stood there in the bathroom in shock. The soothing yet scary as hell images flashed before my closed lids rapidly. I just kept on shaking my head slowing, back and forth into the towel. "No.... no... no.... no..." I couldn't believe it. I just couldn't.

I knew who's hair that was. I knew who's scent it was, and who's strong arms held me. Eric-Fucking-Northman's.

God dammit! Was karma playing some kind of sick joke on me?

I stepped into the shower without thinking and was instantly scalded by the boiling water. Yelping like a wounded dog and jumping back out like an idiot, I slipped and landed on my ass on the hard tile floor.

Great, another fabulous start to another fucking fabulous day.

By the time I got to school, I was once again in a sour mood. My ass was killing me, and I prayed that no one would be able to see the bruise that was most certainly forming under the edge of my cut off shorts. Add that to the bruises on my hips from slamming into the handle bars of that blasted old bike and I was beginning to look like a woman with one sick sex life. Good grief.

I just didn't feel like looking presentable that day, but then again, my dressed down clothing was still impeccably clean. I didn't tolerate stains. I had even ironed my tank top.

The night before, the humidity broke thanks to a midnight thunderstorm, so the day was still oppressively hot, but not humid. Dry heat I could handle, and decided to wear my hair down, in its soft natural waves. I needed to do something to make myself feel better, and fussing over my hair always seemed to help.

Amelia complimented me on it when she saw me in the parking lot, and I instantly felt the boost to my ego. I gave her a warm smile.

"Thanks girl. Thank god its not that humid today."

"I hear yah. Woo, it was hot. Now its just," she pondered for a second, "hot."

I laughed, feeling slightly more at ease. But then, I saw Eric Northman step out of his car. That damn coconut scented hair of his slung back in a messy ponytail. I froze. Amelia noticed.

"Sookie, why you staring down Eric like he's one of those criminals on America's Most Wanted?"

I shook my head. "What? No, I'm not staring at him, there's a bump on his fender."

"Huh, so there is. I wonder what happened?"

I shrugged, feeling guiltier and more uncomfortable by the second.

We hung out for a few minutes by Amelia's mustang. Killing some time before homeroom. Amelia's back was facing Eric's car, so I had a clear shot of him when I noticed Pam, one of the most well off girls in town approach his car. He turned and gave her a smug smile. My interest was instantly peeked.

Seriously? I didn't know Eric still spoke to Pam. They had broken up two summer's ago when she went off to study in France for a year, with her father and his then boyfriend. She ended up staying two, only returning to finish up her high school education here in the states.

Pam looked perfect as always, complete with one of her signature headbands perched atop her beautiful hair. I instantly felt like shit for allowing myself to wear cut offs to school. She intimidated the hell out of me.

She was also eyeing the front of Eric's pants like a hawk. I had to swallow hard. Ew. Girl comes on fast doesn't she? Eric threw his head back in a short loud "Ha!" even I heard from across the parking lot. My insides boiled.

"Oo, looks like Pam's staking her old claim again," Amelia commented. I hadn't noticed but she had turned to see what I was so intently staring at.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Well, she lived in France for two years. Foreign boys are obviously her forte. And well, do you see any other foreign men for her to sink her teeth into around here?" Amelia gestured around the crowded parking lot. I felt like breaking something.

"No," I said, trying not to ground my teeth together in frustration. The little voice inside of my head kept repeating, Jealous much? I pushed the thought from my brain.

I watched as Pam gestured towards Eric's car with a flick of her wrist and an arching eyebrow, before slinking off with a sexy smile on her face. He then watched her go, and I'm sure that extra swagger to her step was for his benefit.

Ew.

Great, did they just make plans to fuck later in his car or something?

Ugh, gross. Who does that?

When I walked into homeroom about two minutes later, my eyes stayed straight ahead of me. I refused to look towards the back of the class, where I knew Eric was sitting. I also refused to look at him during Mr. Stewart's class first period, when Mr. Stewart was telling him that he'll be making up the test he missed yesterday up that afternoon.

I knew I was being silly, but I also knew for a fact that I wasn't jealous. Just... disappointed? I didn't know. Then again, why did I even care? The little voice in my head kept screaming that I was in denial, but I refused to acknowledge it.

I just wanted to get back to the status quo. That was all.

\---------

I never had another coconut infused dream and was thoroughly relieved each morning I woke up to a new day. Even if I hadn't slept well. School days passed by in a haze of textbooks and tests. I didn't damage Eric's car again, nor did we speak to each other.

Everything was fine. Life went on.

Until the second week in October. We had a strange and sudden cold front hit us. (Damn Global warming, normally our first frost wasn't until November.) On the morning of the cold snap, Gran had been trying to get a load of pottery into the kiln for firing, but there was frost on the tracks. When she had unlocked the break to the rolling cart, it slid down the tracks too fast, the momentum was too much for her shaky strides to keep up with and she fell. The cart went crashing into the kiln, all of her beautiful dried pots breaking instantly.

The loud crash had awoken both me and Terry next door. The noise was muffled, and I hadn't placed where it came from, so I screamed for Gran throughout the house first, but she didn't answer. I was starting to panic, my hands shaking with nerves, when I heard Terry yell my name. It sounded as if it was coming from the barn.

I ran outside as fast as my frozen bare feet could take me; flying towards the old barn. There, back by the kiln lay my Gran in Terry's arms. My urge to have a panic attack jumped ten levels. Terry, looked as if he was struggling to hold it together himself. He had never liked the sight of blood after coming back from his tours in Iraq. He was walking a thin line attempting to hold my Gran steady in his arms.

Gran was alive, but weak and shaky. There was a gash on her head and she said she couldn't move her right leg. Despite the fact that she kept on trying to play it off as just being clumsy, it looked as if she'd taken a really nasty fall. It scared the shit out of me to see her so frail, there on the ground with Terry. My Gran had always been this unstoppable matriarch like figure to me. Strong and vivacious. But seeing her that day, she was small, pale and delicate. Nothing like the image I had grown up with in my mind. It was like a pair of blinders had been ripped off my eyes and I was finally seeing her age for the first time.

It was very hard for me to not break down in front of her in that moment. Extremely hard. The only one who could have comforted me then was her, but it was my turn to take care of her. The tables had turned. I swallowed hard and tried to actually focus on what Terry was telling me.

Terry, who's voice was even shakier than Gran's, said that she had been lying over the track when he found her. She had fallen face first.

"I think she's broken her hip," his lip was quivering, and he was clenching his eyes shut, trying to not look at the blood on her face. It was too much to handle all at once. I was petrified for my Gran's condition, and my next door neighbor was about to have a flashback. I almost couldn't breath.

Fortunately, Terry carried his cell phone on his belt. The second I saw it, I grabbed it and dialed 911. Within ten minutes the ambulance had come. Within twenty, Gran was stable and on her way to the hospital. I was in the back of the ambulance with her, holding her cold, gentle hand the entire time. Terry was sitting in our kitchen smoking a bowl and drinking a cup of tea to calm down. Believe it or not, Gran provided weed for Terry whenever he was in a really bad way. She was after all, an old hippie.

Tina, our cat was keeping him company. I hoped to God he wouldn't go into shock.

I hoped I wouldn't go into shock.

\----------

(Several days later) 

Eric

Sookie hadn't been in school for three days.

Sookie never skipped school. That girl would come to school with a fatal chest wound if she had to. Which made me nervous, I hated to admit. Something horrible must of have happened for her not to be around for three days. My curiosity was getting the best of me. I was itching with the need to know. Sookie had stopped bitching at me about a month ago. Granted, she didn't speak with me at all now, but at least she had stopped bitching.

I think I had made a dent though, during our conversation at the inlet. Every day, just as she'd round the corner onto the road that led to the school, you'd hear her stereo turn down to a normal decibel level before entering the parking lot. I had no reason to believe it, but I was pretty sure it was because of me. So despite her lack of communication coming my way, I still felt a little jab of humor at her turning down her tunes everyday. It made me smile.

That first day when I didn't hear her stereo at all, I thought maybe we had made some real progress. But when she never showed up in the senior parking lot, I had walked off to homeroom slightly crestfallen. Where was she? She hadn't shown up by first period either, and at the end of the day, her car was no where too be seen in any of the parking lots around school.

Sookie Stackhouse had missed a day of school. Was the apocalypse coming?

By the second day, my mere curiosity had turned to worry.

By the third I was a little panicked. Which worried me, because really, why should I care? But, I did, which just made my nerves worse. A woman who hadn't spoken to me in a month was giving me the sweats? God I was messed up.

I hadn't had many dreams about her in the past weeks. After her constant animosity towards me subsided, the dreams did as well. I didn't miss the dreams, I was happy to have my normal seven hours a night back, but that night as I slept, Sookie showed up again. She wasn't dressed in a sexy outfit, she wasn't teasing or taunting me, she was just walking somberly along the beach.

I had never seen Sookie, Dream or the Real life version ever look so sullen. Everyone had bad days, but the sight of her worried me. I shot up out of my bed, my hands out in front of me, as if I were grasping for her. I felt like an idiot for all of two seconds before I flew out of bed. Threw on a pair of jeans and sweatshirt, ignoring my shoes and ran out of the house.

I looked out past the railing of my front porch, and there on the jetty that curved out from the mainland, was the silhouette of a slender girl with long hair.

Before I knew it, I had ran down the steps of the porch, crossed the lawn and the street, and was climbing up the dune onto the large flat rocks of the jetty. I carefully jogged out on the jagged rough boulders to where she stood. The closer I got, the more certain I became.

When I was finally standing a few paces behind her, I spoke.

"Sookie?"

She turned her head, and the dim light from weak morning sky showed the wetness on her face. Her eyes were bloodshot and slightly puffy, as if she had been rubbing them. She looked utterly spent.

"What happened?"


	6. Chapter 6

Sookie

I was heading towards the inlet. That was the original plan anyway. This early I knew I'd only be sharing the parking lot with maybe a stray fisherman or two, waiting to head out for the day. No biggie. I'd be alone for the most part, and at that moment, I thought that's what I wanted. The only person who knew my habit of going to the inlet for sanctuary was him, and he'd be sleeping. Maybe he'd be sleeping... Oh God, would he be there? No. Of course he wouldn't.

I shook my head, and pushed the gas pedal harder. My car whined in protest.

I couldn't bother thinking about him. I didn't know if the possibility of him being there upset me more, or if the bitter taste of adrenaline at the back of my throat was from anticipation. I didn't want to figure out which. I was too emotional as it was. I didn't need another layer to add on, and I certainly didn't need more feelings to sift through.

When I reached the edge of town, where the beach road ended, and the curve of the bay road continued; matching the waters beyond, I stopped. There was a jetty there, along the beach. It curved out from the mainland, and protected the sands within from the oncoming currents and erosion the bay waters would cause. I suddenly had an urge to get out and walk along the jetty.

I didn't know I was actually going to get out of the car though, until I heard the click of my door pop open. My brain it seemed had disjointed itself from my body. My arms were doing what they wished, and so were my legs. Which was taking me up the dunes along the edges of the large flat rocks.

The sky was just turning a slight shade of purple, with the thinnest strip of bright blue along the water; signaling the beginning of the sunrise.

Wow, was it that late already?

I had been up all night. Restless and cleaning. The house had been a mess. Without Gran's constant tidying the past three days, things cluttered up. The coffee table was a jungle of books, strewn magazines and abandoned coffee cups. Dust had collected on the mantel and the mail was left to pile up in the box out front.

The kitchen however, stayed spotless. I had taken over the cooking, and we had no dishwasher, so I would just clean up as I went. Putting away the hand washed dishes the minute they were dry. It made many things easier.

I actually hadn't really left the kitchen most of the week. It was the only place I really felt comfortable constantly moving around in. I was baking and making any recipe I could get my hands on. Gran's little box of hand written recipes had become my new best friend. Cooking soothed me, and being productive was always better than being idle.

Except for right now. Right now I needed to pause and breathe. Most importantly, I had to get out of the house. I had been cooped up for three days. It felt like a month. I missed the smell of the salt air, and I wanted to hear the lulling rhythm of the ocean waves crashing along the shore again. Listening to the sloshing of the washing machine while cleaning out the litter box just didn't cut it.

I had walked halfway out along the jagged rocks, before I realized what a stupid idea it was to have gone out there in the first place. I felt paralyzed by irrational fear all of a sudden. I should have gone to the inlet, I thought. At least there would have been the occasional fishermen at the inlet. I was completely alone out here on the jetty. The sound of the waves was ominous, not soothing, and my feet were cold from the slightly damp rocks and the early morning chill that hung in the air.

My parents had taught me from an early age to walk along the rocks barefoot. It was the best way, and they'd always remind Jason and me of it whenever we came to the beach. Nothing grips better than your toes, my father would tell me. The stray memory brought another wave of grief over me, and I felt tears prickle at the corners of my eyes for the tenth time that night.

I silently cursed for allowing myself to break down again. I hadn't been able to keep my emotions in check since the accident. Maybe I was just getting too close to my period, or I was regressing back to a child like mentality? I didn't know, but as the tears started to fall, I swiped them away as quickly as they came. I couldn't stand them anymore. I had cried enough.

The sky had lightened even further by the time I looked up from the lazy observation of my cold toes - while I slowly had an inner panic attack. The blue strip along the horizon line had spread out further up into the sky, and the edge of the waters now bled with orange light, as it spilled out above them from the fast encroaching sun beneath.

It was a beautiful sight, but I didn't want to be there. I felt alone, and I didn't want to be. I was wrong before; time to myself was not what I needed. I was so close to being completely alone in life, I didn't need an abandoned jetty and a solitary sunrise to help reassure me of that. What the hell had I been thinking?

I was wiping away one last tear when I heard a voice behind me. Surprisingly, it didn't startle me.

"Sookie?" He spoke hesitantly. His voice was raspy from sleep I assumed, but quiet. I closed my eyes at the sound of it.

I'm not alone.

The stray thought flitted through my head right before I turned to face him. His eyes flashed from expectant to concerned the second he got a good look at me. I wanted to drop my head and hide my face in that moment. It felt wrong for Eric to be concerned about me. That wasn't what he was to me. He was an annoyance, a rebel, a source of twisted entertainment when I felt like dispensing my bitchy side out onto the world. I never saw him as someone who'd care about me. My heart rate instantly spiked.

No matter. I probably looked like shit. In my hazy state, I was more likely mistaking his look of concern for disgust. But he surprised me when he spoke again.

"What happened?" He asked, worry evident in his voice. He was slightly out of breath too, I noticed. Why?

"Did you... run here?" It wasn't the answer to his question, but it was the first thing that I thought to say.

He fumbled with his answer, saying "I..." before leaving his mouth hanging open in mid thought. I could practically see the wheels turning behind his blue eyes.

I was too spent to bitch. So, I stood and waited.

"I..." he tried again, "I... you won't believe me." He rushed out. I could tell he still wanted to know what was wrong with me. Ugh, do you have about five hours Eric?

"I'm too tired to not believe you Eric. Just tell me." I sighed.

"Yes." He finally said.

I cocked an eyebrow, "Yes?"

"Yes, I ran here."

"Is that what I supposedly wouldn't believe?"

"No."

I closed my eyes, I didn't want to get angry. Too tired. "Eric, you're being annoyingly vague."

"I'm sorry," he said. It sounded genuine and actually, a little desperate.

I opened my eyes again; waiting.

He sighed and rubbed his face with his hands. "I, for some reason, knew you were here," he said while rubbing the back of his neck with one hand.

What the... "How?"

He sighed one last time and then finally focused his attention directly on me. His stare was fierce and intense. I almost wanted to look away, but didn't. We had locked eyes again and for the second time that year I couldn't look away.

"I dreamed that you were here just now Sookie." He was dead serious.

"Wha...?" I blinked rapidly at him. What the fuck? Oh god, I'm too tired for this.

He nodded his head, agreeing with my what-the-fuck face. "I know. I was sleeping and you just popped up! You looked so sad, so spent. I had never seen you look like that. You were walking ahead of me, and I tried to catch up, but I couldn't reach you. I literally threw myself out of bed trying."

He was rambling. I was reeling. Eric had dreamed about me? This was just a whole new level of confusion regarding him.

"You threw yourself out of bed?"

"Yes! I was freaking out. So I ran outside to my porch and looked out towards here," he was gesticulating with his hands, pointing back to a house across the street and then towards me, "and there you were. On the jetty."

I shook my head. "Wait, you live there?" I pointed back towards the house he was just gesturing towards with slight awe. I had always loved that house. It was an old Craftsman style home, with a large wrap around, covered front porch and an upper deck that looked out over the impressive view of the ocean and bay. Lots of trim, lots of roof lines, and it was all painted in white and off-white colors. The paint had been slowly chipping away for a few years, but it only added to the house's character. It was the perfect lazy old beach house.

"Wow Eric, nice digs." I said rather stupidly.

"Thanks," he said hurriedly, "but that's not important... are you okay?"

There it was; the concern in his eyes again. And he had dreamt about me too. Not only was he worried now, in front of me, but he had been worrying about me in his dreams. What. The. Fuck?

I turned around, needing time away from his eyes to absorb it all. The sky has lightened sufficiently. I knew the sun had risen and I wanted to see it. Sure enough, it was just pulling away from the horizon of the ocean as I turned to catch a glimpse. The clouds and sky surrounding it were a brilliant coral, with vibrant streaks of red dashed across the sea. A perfect morning. How Ironic.

I felt Eric step close behind me, no doubt still wanting an answer. "No, I'm not okay," I told him.

I heard Eric inhale sharply, and then say under his breath, "I knew it." I turned towards him, and was shocked at how close he was. I was even more shocked at the fact that I didn't care. I must have been really, really tired.

"How did you know?" I asked.

"You weren't in school for three days Sookie. You'd be on your deathbed and still drag your ass into school if you could."

I practically snorted. "That's true."

"What happened, why aren't you okay Sookie?" His voice was soft and his tone was still genuine. I hadn't talked to anyone in three days. Why not him?

"My Gran. She fell," I said. I didn't mean to be brief; I was just gearing up to get it all out. I took in a heavy breath to steel my nerves.

"She okay?"

"Yes, and no," I said, but then I shook my head. "Well, yes, she's fine. She is. We're lucky, extremely. What happened was... " and I turned from him, as I continued to explain the accident and what had occurred after. I paced up and down the large boulder I had been standing on, and he eventually sat down and folded his long legs on the one next to it; tilling his head up in concentration, as he gave me his full attention.

It felt incredible to get it all out. To finally just talk to someone. Amelia had called several times, and I had of course told her of Gran's condition. She even offered to come over and bring her maid Yolanda with her, and her father's personal chef Cyrald, to do the cooking. It was a sweet gesture, but I just didn't want all the extra bodies in the house. Especially strangers. Outside of her and maybe a few other friends, I didn't care who knew.

I started off telling him about the morning of the accident. How I was awoken by a thunderous crashing sound. I explained about the railroad tracks and the kiln Terry our neighbor had built. I told him about our pottery studio and how that morning she had landed wrong as she came down on the tracks. How Terry had found her after hearing the crash from his house, and how I grabbed his cell phone to call the ambulance.

I looked down at my bare feet at one point, remembering how cold they were on that morning, and how cold they were now. It made the memories that much more clear.

I told him about the hospital, and how I stayed up half the night waiting for the damn doctors to actually tell me what Gran's condition was.

When the doctors finally did get around to talking with me, they said that her legs were sound, save for a slight fracture in the hip that would heal on its own, and a sprain in her left ankle. I was utterly relieved. I told him how I was dreading to hear that she might have broken her leg, or her hip, or both. For a woman her age, a broken hip was no minor thing. She hadn't though. Thank God. She did however, break her left wrist. The doctors told us that it was a clean break and that she was lucky. No added medical procedures were needed, save the adding of a cast to her arm. Within a few weeks, it'd be removed and replaced by a brace.

"Course, constant care meant no school," I said explaining to him why I had been absent. Gran didn't like that one little bit, but I didn't like the size of the bill an in-home nurse would wrack up. After a week Gran would be steady enough to take care of herself again, and I could go back. I had settled it with her doctors before she could even complain about it. That was that.

I left out the part of my parents deaths, and why I was living with my Gran in the first place. I was pretty sure Eric knew of my living situation and why Gran was my guardian, but just in case he didn't, I kept my mouth shut on that subject. I didn't feel like rehashing all those memories. I had thought about them enough in the past few days, with the realization that I had almost lost Gran too. But, the fact was that she had raised me, and that it was my turn to take care of her. I didn't complain or mind in the slightest. I owed so much to her.

I also ignored the subject of my brother. The bastard had yet to get back to me after I had left him a voicemail explaining about Gran three days earlier. It would have been nice to have seen him. Gran certainly would have liked it, but again, it wasn't a subject I was ready to bring up; even to myself. I'd rather ignore him, like he ignored us.

I continued with saying how everything was essentially fine, and I couldn't have been more thankful for that fact. But, after three days of nothing but being hold up in the house like a hen in a chicken coop, I had to get out. Gran had been sleeping soundly in her bed earlier, and I was restless.

"Besides," I said, as a side note to my rant, "the best time to take a drive is right before dawn. No one is around."

It was my favorite time of day. I always had the roads and the morning sky to myself. When you're looking for peace, it can be a little slice of heaven.

I explained everything to him, and he just sat and listened. He never once made a snarky comment, or rolled his eyes. He took in everything I had to say. It was the most I had ever spoken to anyone, I think, who wasn't Gran. After I realized that, I was kind of shocked. I actually felt bad for subjecting him to my rambling. Poor guy, didn't deserve it really.

The sun was well above the horizon line before a pause came in our rather one-sided conversation. When I realized how long I had kept him, and how frozen and numb his ass must have been, I cut myself off completely.

"Eric, look, you don't have to listen to this. I'm sorry."

He shot up out of his folded position on the rock, saying "no," and then promptly started to fall forward.

"Whoa!" I shouted, as I tried to catch the six foot something body that was Eric's. He fell awkwardly onto my shoulders, bracing one hand on my right shoulder and the other on my hip. His hair fell into my face and I was suddenly surrounded by the smell of coconuts again. My knees almost bulked at the warn scent, but thankfully they didn't. Falling on my ass, on the rocks with Eric above me would not have been fun.

"Shit, sorry Sookie." He took a minute to steady himself and stood straight, but didn't let go of me. I arched an eyebrow at him. "My feet, they fell asleep. I didn't mean to fall on you like that," he offered as explanation.

I cleared my throat, "It's okay," I said looking down. Which was utterly stupid of me. I was getting a front row view of his pants, and it reminded me of seeing Pam ogle him in the parking lot several weeks before. Fuck.

"Something on the front of my jeans there Sookie?" He said with a small smile. I shot my eyes up towards him again.

"No, sorry." I could literally feel my face redden. Shit. This situation was just all kinds of awkward.

Eric snorted, "It's okay. I'll let go of you in a sec, I just need my feet to start working again so I don't fall face first and eat it on these rocks."

"Yes, because that'd be tragic," I said. I didn't mean for it to sound sarcastic, but it came out utterly dry. Eric's hold on me faltered, and I immediately regretted saying it.

"I mean," I started, "shit, I didn't mean for that to sound sarcastic Eric."

"The sarcasm just escapes you sometimes?" He offered. He sounded skeptical, but not angered. Still, I felt guilty.

"Yeah," I said hanging my head again.

The air between us was palpable in those few moments, while blood coursed its way back into Eric's legs. I kept my head low and staring off to the right. I forced myself to watch the waves crash into the rocks. I wasn't going to let him catch me staring at his pants again. Not that I had done it on purpose.

A few minutes passed before either of us said anything. I finally broke the silence when I just couldn't stand it anymore.

"Thanks for listening," I said, but it was barely above a whisper. I hoped he had heard it, because I really didn't want to repeat myself.

"Anytime."

I looked up at him. He looked down at me. There was no humor behind his eyes, only sincerity, and for the first time, I allowed myself to believe him.

However, he was still holding me, and the heat from his hands was burning into me. If I had felt cold before, I now felt flushed.

"Do you think..." Eric started talking, but then stopped himself. I could literally see him change his mind mid sentence. He started again, "Could you help me walk back to the street?" There was a small smile on his lips. I didn't know what to make of it.

"Sure," I said after a beat. He had listened to me patiently for God knows how long, the least I could do was help him walk back to his house. "Worried about falling still?"

"Yeah, my feet feel like pop rocks going off in a vat of seltzer," he said, wincing slight as he started to move.

"Ouch."

"Exactly," he said with a full smile now on his face. He rearranged himself so that one arm was now draped over my shoulder for support, while I slung my arm around his waist. For a second, I thought about the possibility of someone seeing us like this; we'd look like a couple.

Eric didn't fall down on the way back to the street where my car waited. When we had gotten down off the rocks, Eric also didn't allow his arm to linger around me; pulling away with a quick "thanks" the second we hit the pavement. For some reason, I was slightly disappointed. I had liked the pressure of his body on me. It felt reassuring somehow. Not that I was going to tell him that.

He didn't allow for an awkward moment to develop either. He immediately said, as I turned to open my car door, "Yah know, I go to the inlet a lot in the mornings. Before school, I mean. To just relax before the day starts. So, if you ever want company, you know where to find me." And with a smile and a small wave, he turned and jogged bare foot back to his front porch.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flö - Move it
> 
> Knullnylle - fuckface
> 
> Gran Patrón - fancy ass, mad expensive tequila

Eric

I tried very hard not to sprint back to my front porch at breakneck speed after leaving Sookie. I didn't want it to appear as though I were running away from her, or that I hadn't enjoyed her company for the past however many hours we'd spoken on the jetty. Well, she spoke, I listened. Either way, it wasn't unpleasant, if anything is was nice to finally hear her saying something other than "get bent" to me.

I forced my limbs to slow to a jog, while spasms shot up through my legs each time I'd take another step. The tingling sensation telling me that blood was finally finding its way back into my lower extremities was still in full swing, and fuck, it hurt. The rough texture of the pavement felt like needle pricks on the soles of my feet, as opposed to the soft dull gravel it usually was.

All in all, jogging back to my porch while not appearing as though I wanted to get the fuck away from Sookie - because I didn't - while at the same time trying not to fall down from the feeling that my legs were no longer connected to my body, and dealing with the pain that it caused, made it one difficult ass maneuver. And a rather ridiculous one considering it literally took me only seven paces to get to my house.

Shit, is this what it felt like to be self conscious? I really didn't like it.

I didn't look back until I had gotten inside, and was behind the safety of my closed front door. The spur of the moment self-conscious-cloud that was hanging over my head, made me wonder if it would be too cliché to turn and wave at her as she drove away.

Did I just second guess the act of waving goodbye to someone? What the hell was wrong with me?

Yeah, little black self conscious cloud... please go the fuck away.

When I did finally get the balls to watch her drive off, I did it with a bittersweet feeling in my gut. She had really been hurting the past few days, and from the sound of things it seemed as if she had no one to confide in, or express that hurt to. I'm sure her regular go-to person was her grandmother, whom she spoke of with nothing but love and devotion. But with her accident, I guess Sookie didn't want to burden her any further. That was a rather selfless act that on Sookie's part, and after coming to the conclusion of that fact, my respect level for her, raised ten-fold.

I suddenly felt very fortunate to have my brothers, our guitars and our back porch rule. We had our own, built in confidants in each other and a go-to ritual.

Maybe Sookie needed to visit a back porch jam session?

The second that thought passed through my brain, I squashed the idea like a particularly pestery bug. I wasn't ready to share that part of my home life with anyone. And apparently I had just given Sookie free reign of my time at the inlet, so allowing her to infiltrate any further into my world would surely send my confusion regarding her through the roof.

Step back buddy, breathe and assess, I told myself.

That's exactly what I did too. I stepped back from the glass panes of the front door - that were now fogged over - took a deep breath and walked back upstairs to my room. I had gained more knowledge about Sookie's life and true personality in the past few hours than I had ever known in the past five years of living in the same small town and going to school with her. 'Overwhelmed' was probably a good word to describe how I was feeling right about then.

\--------

I sat down on my bed, feeling oddly heavier than I had been earlier, when I'd left to find Sookie. I was fully aware that I should probably be heading to school, but couldn't bring myself to care. I now knew that Sookie wasn't going to be there for the rest of the week, and as I looked over at my bedside clock and realized it was already well into second period, I said "fuck it" and flopped back onto the mattress. I had yet to skip again since my little incident with Sookie and her bike back in September. We were well into October by now, surely one more missed day wouldn't hurt.

I stared at my ceiling for a good while, watching the paddle fan make lazy circles around itself. I thought about Sookie and wondered if she would actually take me up on my offer about the inlet. I smiled involuntarily at the thought, as the radiators clinked to life, filling my room with calming dry heat that was almost too warm. My eyelids were sagging within seconds.

Suddenly, I was at the inlet. Parked in my car and watching a fishing boat with "Get-er-Done" scrawled on the side, drift past, down the channel into the open ocean beyond. I heard the revving of an engine behind me and the familiar protest of an abused break being slammed too hard. I smiled to myself, Sookie had shown up.

But, when I looked over to see her, all I saw was the fury in her face that was flushed pink with anger and disappointment. She undid her seat belt, got out of her car and slammed the door closed with so much force the car actually shook. Poor old Nova. My smile fell and I wondered what had possibly gone wrong.

Sookie didn't waste anytime stalking over to my car. Once in front of the passenger side door, she bent down to stare into my Impala and rapped her knuckles on the glass of the window loudly. Clearly, I was in the dog house, but why?

Knock, knock, knock.

"Bro!"

My eyes shot open as I flew off of the bed in shock.

"Shit!" I cursed to myself. I had done it again. I really had to stop dreaming. Weird shit happens when I dream. What the hell did that one mean? Why was Sookie upset? Was she upset now? Was she angry at me, or just at life in general and needed to talk? Question after question flew through my brain, equaling an instant migraine. Fuck.

"Bro!" My brother yelled again through my bedroom door, before finally just opening it and coming in without permission.

"What... What do you want?" I asked while rubbing my face, doubling over to put my head between my knees, feeling more flustered than I ever allowed myself to be. Dammit. I was too level for this shit.

"Ingmar got the deal! The contracts are being drawn up now. We're headin' to Cali tomorrow brotha! Pack up. Flö, man, flö!"

I picked my head up and peered at my brother through the messy blond strands of hair.

"You serious?" I asked him.

"Yes!" He shouted and he was positively beaming with pride. Burger, being the oldest of the three of us, had always taken on a rather paternal stance when it came to Ingmar's and my welfare. I couldn't help but smile back at his enthusiasm, and frankly, I was fucking excited. Ingmar's sponsoring contract with Red Bull had been dangling above our heads for the better half of a year. It was about time those bastards made good on their word.

Burger had been sponsored for years; having surfed for both Billabong and Quicksilver. He'd even done a fashion spread for Roxy's swim shorts, and even though we never let him live his "modeling days" down, we were proud of the cocky bastard. Ingmar had never gotten anywhere near as much attention from the surf companies, so this development must have been one hell of an ego boost for him. A much deserved one too.

After a rather embarrassing display of uninhibited excitement, in which my brother and I jumped up and down throughout the house squeeing like little girls, we piled into Burger's Jeep and headed to the store for provisions. Something as momentous as this occasion meant a toast was in order. Ingmar had an appointment with Gran Patrón tonight; we'd hate to see him miss it.

Ingmar wouldn't be getting back from his contract signing for another hour we found out by the time we got back to the house, giving us plenty of time to cook up a kick ass celebratory meal for him. He'd been keeping Burger updated throughout the day via text messages. Even in his texts, we could tell he was bursting with anticipation. It was almost, dare I say... adorable.

Ingmar knew well enough not to text me. I barely kept my phone charged, let alone kept up with the messages people sent me. The important people knew where to find me if they needed me. My brother's were annoyingly on the ball when it came to finding me in fact. It was uncanny sometimes. Especially when I didn't want to be found.

That train of thought brought me back to Sookie. She was now included on that list of people who knew where one of my hiding spots were. That also presented another problem. Burger said we were leaving the next morning for a competition in Cali, Ingmar would be surfing in. His first official Red Bull drop in. I told Sookie she could come and find me at the inlet in the mornings if she wanted. Now if she actually took me up on that offer, I wouldn't be there for her.

"Shit," I cursed to myself; my dream from earlier suddenly making a whole lot of sense. Burger heard me and perked his head up from coring a bunch of avocados for guacamole.

"What's with the random cursing? In English no less?" He quirked an eyebrow at me.

"Nothing," I lied. "I just need to go do something real quick," I said, and bolted out the door faster than a greyhound at the track doped up on caffeine pills.

Sookie

As I pulled away from the curb, finally continuing on my way to the inlet - three hours later - I tried very hard not to watch Eric jog back up to his house. I failed.

It wasn't because I couldn't help myself; I merely noticed that he was running funny - probably because his feet were still asleep. The funny run had confirmed it. I was wondering if had actually lost his balance earlier on the jetty, or if he was faking for some strange reason. Oddly enough, either way I don't think I would have minded. I could still feel the phantom hold of his hands on me - as if he had been branded with the heat from his body. I found myself curiously wondering why his touch was so affecting as I rolled on down the road.

I only noticed then - as I watched him bound up to his front porch - that he was barefoot, and how low his jeans were slung on his hips. Everything about him read "laid back", even his clothes, and suddenly it looked good on him. I was just now catching on to that fact.

I slowed down a bit to watch his hair flow out behind him haphazardly before stopping when he reached the front door. How can his hair even look that relaxed? Did nothing stress him out? God, that was frustrating. I wanted that ability. I wanted to be able to compartmentalize everything and put it all away in little drawers to be sorted later, dammit. Maybe he was just better at hiding his emotions?

I realized then that I was crawling down the street at 5 miles an hour. I was so lost in my observation of Eric, I hadn't noticed the simple things, like the road, or my foot on the pedal. An early-bird geriatric was beating me down the street, walking by with his dog and the morning paper slung under his arm. That sufficiently shook me from my contemplation of Eric and I pressed on the pedal to sped away.

After turning down the back road that led up to the inlet's parking lot, I allowed myself to think about Eric's offer. It was very considerate of him. "Considerate" and "Eric" were two words I never thought I'd put together in the same instance. I had never seen him as a considerate person before. Maybe I was an idiot? No, I was just judgmental. I knew this, but I was almost always right about the people I passed judgment on. Of course, there were always exceptions. I guess I had just found one.

I didn't stay at the inlet for long. I had felt much better ever since my talk with Eric, and felt no need to linger. I was sure Gran would be needing something soon, and I still had to clean up the kiln. No one had gone near it since the accident, but I had decided last night - in my non-sleeping hectic state - that today was the day to finally clean it out. Gran's pottery sold best right before Thanksgiving for some puzzling reason. I had to make sure people had something to buy if and when they came round. Having the studio and kiln in working order was first priority.

As I drove away, I found myself smiling. I tried to stop the stupid grin from spreading across my face, but I couldn't. Ugh, I hated being out of control of my emotions. But really, I was feeling happy. Which was infinitely better than feeling lost; much like I had been earlier. If I could ever work up the guts to actually seek out Eric at the inlet, I'd might have someone to actually confide in other than my Gran.

Really, I couldn't help but smile.

The loud music blasting through my car felt too obnoxious in that moment. And really, The Animals were a band you had to sit back and savor at an appropriate decibel level. Suddenly, blasting their music no longer made sense to me.

Eric

I rounded the corner way too fast, heading onto the familiar back road I had driven on so often. My Impala screeched in protest and I patted the dashboard soothingly, as I prayed to whatever deity that would listen that Sookie would be at the inlet. When the parking lot came into view and the rusted old Nova was no where to be seen, I cursed.

"Shit."

Where else would she be? Why the hell didn't I know where she lived? What was the point of living in a small town if you didn't know where every single resident lived?

I did a quick K turn and sped on down the road, heading towards Pam's house. Maybe she knew where Sookie lived. They were in the same history class; maybe they had exchanged numbers or something.

You're grasping at straws Eric, that annoying ass small voice said to me in the back of my head. I shook it off and dug around in my glove compartment for a cigarette. Dammit, why was today turning out to be so stressful? I hated being stressed. Ingmar had gotten his sponsorship deal finally, I should be home celebrating, and yet I was racing around town trying to figure out where the hell Sookie Stackhouse lived.

What is wrong with this picture?

I actually found myself sticking my head out the window, straining to hear her radio being blasted around the town. I was being an idiot.

The second I drove up to Pam's house, I realized how idiotic I actually was, since she was clearly still at school. Her beamer was no where in sight. Showing up at school in the middle of a day of ditching was never smart, but maybe I could catch her at lunch?

I decided to risk it and rode off towards the school, trying not to curse in several languages the entire way.

\--------

An hour later, I slammed the front door of my house shut in utter defeat. Burger, having heard me come in, appeared out from the kitchen and came looking for me in the front hallway.

"Where'd yah go?" He asked, looking almost giddy. I quirked an eyebrow at him.

"I was trying to find out where this girl lived," I said, dropping my keys into the large bowl by the door, and kicking off my flip-flops. I despised unneeded footwear.

"Ah man, I thought you went off to pick up some cronic for tonight." Burger said looking crestfallen, like he was a kid at Christmas again and Ingmar had just kicked his house of legos down.

I practically snorted, "Cronic? Seriously? Call it weed bro. That kinda slang just doesn't sound right with your accent."

"Knullnylle," Burger said with a smirk.

"I love you too buddy. Where's Ingmar?" I asked.

"In the kitchen."

"With the Patrón?"

"Yup."

"Well, we better get in there and have some before it all mysteriously disappears," I said and walked off past him, following the delicious scent of spices and melted cheese. I had failed in figuring out where Sookie lived, and had no way of communicating to her that I'd be MIA for the next four days. Tequila shots were most definitely called for.

As I slung the first one back, toasting my brother for his success, I couldn't help but feel a slight sense of foreboding. The day had been a roller coaster of ups and downs, and now it was ending with me drowning away my stress in fine tequila.

The only solace I found in my many ponderings that night was that Sookie might not want to take me up on my offer. Or not need to. I hoped for the second option. I wanted Sookie to stay civil with me, and oddly enough, I wanted to get a chance to talk to her again. What I didn't want was her to be frustrated for feeling overwhelmed. If she didn't feel those things, she wouldn't need to seek me out.

I hoped she wouldn't.

At least, not for the next four days.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Swedish words:
> 
> Kompis - buddy  
> Flö - move it  
> Skål - Cheers
> 
> p.s. 'Nor'easters' are really really really ridiculously bad storms that occur along the northeast coast in the states. Usually they pop up during hurricane season, when all the little fuckers fly up the coast. By the time they reach us, they're called 'nor'easters'.

Eric

Fucking thunder god on a damn popsicle. There is something utterly and completely wrong with the way one feels the morning after they've developed a very intimate relationship with Señora Patron. She is a cruel mistress indeed. I sat up in my bed and my vision swam as my head throbbed. Shit, whose idea was it to have that tenth, eleventh, twelfth, shot anyway? I'd kill 'em.

I groaned as I crawled out from underneath the familiar warmth of my quilt and into the chill of the early morning air, which hung in my room exactly at foot level. Wasn't heat supposed to rise? Dammit, where was my heat?

Scanning the room, I saw the culprit of the cold. I had left my window open the previous night like the drunken ass I was. I'm Scandinavian dammit, I can handle the cold. The only exception is when I'm hungover. Which I most certainly was.

While walking over to close it, I remembered that in less than five hours I'd be on a plane heading to the opposite side of the country. The words "cabin pressure" kept on flashing across my eyelids. The last thing my head needed was more pressure. I thought it was going to pop clean off after I attempted to open my bedroom door and the hinges creaked. Bastards. I'd have to DW-40 that shit stat. That was fucking loud! I stupidly kicked the door closed in my hungover-grog-filled rage and the resounding slam sent me falling back through the hall, holding my head in my hands.

Oh, I'm an idiot.

"Uhnn.. Not cool bro," I heard come from somewhere off in the near distance of the house. The voice was soft and quiet but lethal in its tone. I couldn't tell who it was. Burger and Ingmar sound exactly the same when hungover/sick/and or stoned.

"Sorry!" I rasped out harshly in a strangled whisper, apologizing to the air around me, not knowing exactly where my brothers were.

Okay, we were all idiots. Today's plane ride was gonna be a fucking nightmare. Not to mention that I'm sure Ingmar's agent will want him looking powder fresh like a baby's butt when we get there, and right then I was sure the boy was probably toeing the other side of haggard.

Ten minutes later I had found my way into the kitchen, which apparently had moved its location in my house since I had gone to bed the previous night. Burger, god bless his soul, was cooking up fillings for the tortillas that were warming on the stove next to a pile of eggs and sausage links. I blinked unbelieving for a second, and I swear for a moment, my eyes almost got misty.

Burger turned from his attentions on the stovetop when I entered. He was annoyingly chipper and had a smile on his face. "Wakey, wakey, eggs n' bakey," he trilled. I grimaced from the pitch of his voice but my nose pulled me closer to the succulent smells regardless of the ringing in my ears.

"Breakfast burritos?" I said in a small whisper, blatantly awed at Burger's talent of waking up and making us breakfast no matter what state of spent he was in. I could have kissed the man.

"Yup, I was thinking of making coconut shrimp, but even the idea of heating up canola oil to fry them in makes me wanna..." he was twirling his spatula through the air, looking for the right word, "well, you know."

"Yah, don't say it. Don't say it," I said, shaking my head back and forth while holding my stomach. Wiling its contents to stay down.

"Both of you need to stop talking," my other brother said from across the room. He had been lying on the kitchen table with his head on his arms. Yup, the boy sure looked haggard. Oh well, maybe his agent was one of those women who liked the haggard look on a guy? Some girls went for that.

He was right though, we were making entirely too much noise just trying to whisper, so we shut up then. The rest of breakfast was filled with only the sizzling sounds of bacon in the frying pan, and chewing from the mass consumption of all things edible around us. The more we ate, the more alcohol was absorbed from our abused systems, and we all mutually felt better and better as the minutes passed. By noon we could actual speak at a normal decibel level again.

The ability for us to converse in normal speaking tones led to a rather interesting conversation we all had in the living room later that afternoon. Ingmar had shocked us with his common sense, something he rarely displayed, but apparently kept hidden in his back pocket for times such at these.

"Where had you gone last night, kompis?" Ingmar asked across the room as he packed up a series of board shorts in varying colors and styles. The rest of his wardrobe was laid out along the living room's couches and chairs. Ingmar had a touch of vanity to him when it came to his clothes.

Burger spoke up before I could even compose an answer. "Ha! He was chasing after a girl. I'm proud of you, by the way, bro," he finished his little statement looking at me with mock pride. I scowled at him.

"I wasn't chasing, I just needed to get a hold of her."

"So, what, you just drove around hoping she was working the streets?" Ingmar had sat down at the edge of the sofa as his focus shifted from swimwear to my failed attempt at finding Sookie yesterday.

"No, but I had some ideas of where she'd be... look, I couldn't find her, it doesn't matter." Saying it out loud just made me feel ever more defeated and guilty. I didn't know why, but I felt a need to be there for her. I fucking wanted to be there if she needed me.

"Did you check the phone book?" Ingmar asked. Burger and I both raised our heads to stare at him as if he had just grown a second one of his own. It was as if lightning had struck the house and a choir of angels had started singing.

"Seriously guys? The. Phone. Book. It's not a myth," he spoke to us as if he were explaining something to small children.

"Eric, come on, I know it's not exactly fascinating material that makes you wax philosophical like Jung or Kant or whatever crazy ass shit you were reading the other day..."

"It was Jung, and I was reading that for research!" I spat back, cutting him off. That shit had confused the hell out of me too. I had only picked it up because it was about dreams and the subconscious and I wanted to know why Sookie kept on popping up in mine. Though I had a pretty good inkling on my own without crazyman's theories.

"Fine, regardless, it's not a waste of tree pulp. It serves a purpose bro. It's in the kitchen," Ingmar said, pointing behind him with his thumb. He then went back to deciding between a green or yellow pair of board shorts.

Ingmar was either a genius or I was just a momentarily clueless jerk off. It was probably a little bit of both. I grabbed the book from the kitchen and high tailed it up to my room. If I was going to display stalker like tendencies, I might as well do it in the right setting behind a closed door.

As I flipped through the thin pages of the seldom used colossus sized book - which had probably been occupying space on the kitchen shelf since we'd moved in - I thought about who I might reach by dialing her home phone, as opposed to her cell. Was this over stepping these strange imaginary boundaries we seemed to have, I mused as I came to the 'S' section. I knew Sookie lived with an elder relative as opposed to her parents, and that she had a brother, though I'd never met him or seen him around town. I didn't know where her parents were or what happened to them that made them absent from Sookie's life, but I assumed that since her household was run by a person of an older generation they'd most certainly have a landline.

Sure enough, on the third 'STA' page there were two Stackhouse listings: a doctor who lived two towns over, and an Adele Stackhouse with a local area code, who lived off of Hummingbird Rd, an old country lane on the opposite side of town. I smiled down at the dull yellow pages tinged gray from the black ink; that had to be Sookie's house.

"Bro, you packed? The car's here," Burger said as he knocked on the door jam, popping his head into the room.

"The car? Someone's driving us?" I asked absentmindedly.

"Yah, Ingmar's getting the works," he beamed at me, but I wasn't thinking about the pimpness that was being bestowed upon my brother right then, my focus was still on the phone book. When it hit me a moment later that "the car" meant the taxi that was going to take us to the airport, I finally snapped back to reality.

"Shit! The time!" I rubbed my face in my hands. "Fuck, no, I wanted to drive over there and tell her I'd be outta town."

"Just call her, kompis. I've never seen you so hung up. Why you so intent on seeing her, anyway?"

"It's kinda complicated, but for some reason, I think this would go down better face to face." If I called her she'd probably hang up on me. Face to face we had a connection. A palpable energy that flowed between us. I didn't know if that'd be conveyed over the phone, but I didn't want to take the chance.

"Well Eric, I hate to tell you this, but uhh... we got a plane to catch."

"I know."

I looked back down at the book on my lap. Sookie's address seemed to stand out in contrast against all the other black font on the page, glaring at me like a neon sign. Telling me to go over there. Pulling me towards her.

"Guys!" Ingmar yelled from downstairs. "Come on, the driver's waitin'! Flö!"

Burger gave me an apologetic look before leaving his spot inside my door frame, yelling down the stairs, "hold up Ingmar, we're comin'."

Damn hangovers. They always make me lose sense of time. I probably wasted a good two hours just sitting and staring at the ceiling or some such shit. As per usual on a "day after," my brain wasn't working on all its cylinders.

The last thing I did before running out the door was writing down Sookie's home phone and address onto a post it. I shoved it into my pocket, grabbed my luggage and sweatshirt from off the back of my bedroom door and booked it. Ingmar would kill me if we missed that plane.

As we drove out of the town's outer limits on the way to the airport, I stared out the window, hoping Sookie would be okay for the next four days.

"Bros before hos Eric, bros before hos," Ingmar smiled to me from across the seat. I weakly smiled back. My brothers most certainly came first, but it never hurt to branch out to other people. I hadn't done much of that in the five years we'd lived here. I hoped I'd get the chance with Sookie.

If she'd let me.

\---------

Sookie

It had been two days since I had seen Eric at the jetty, where he seemingly appeared out of nowhere just when I was feeling more miserable and more isolated than ever before. He always managed to bug me at the most inconvenient times, but that morning, he was there at the exact right time. I'm not saying that if he hadn't shown up I would have gone postal and jumped into the water along the jagged rocks or something; I'm not suicidal. But, I certainly would have felt a continued sense of being utterly lost. Being lost scares people, and frightened people do rash things. He kept me from feeling scared. I couldn't help but feel my lips curve into a smile when I thought about it. I'd then try and wipe the smile off my face as fast as possible before Gran noticed the slight blush that was sure to accompany it, but still, I appreciated him being there more than I'd ever like to admit. Or ever would.

I had not taken him up on his offer to meet at the jetty if I ever needed the quiet company again. The truth is that I wanted to, that very next day even, but I was apprehensive. I didn't know what that meant, or what that defined us as. For five years I did nothing but bitch at the boy and now, I was seeking out solace with him? Talk about a shift in judgment.

That brought me to another point. I still didn't know how I actually felt about Eric. He had caught me off guard when I was at my lowest, and he was quietly supportive and reassuring during that time, but this is high school; what happens outside the classroom, stays outside the classroom. The rules are different inside those hallowed halls. Would that matter? Would he except me to be civil towards him? I think that goes without saying. I wasn't so much of a frigid bitch that I couldn't appreciate kindness when I saw it and return it equally.

Would he expect me to talk to him inside the school? Would I be okay with that? I think I would be, and that freaked me the fuck out.

The most important of all these questions was the classic: why do I care?

Really, why should I worry about something that couldn't even be construed as a "thing"? Not even a "thinglet."

Maybe a thinglet...

"Sookie?"

"Yes!" I jumped. I had been pouring tea; it splashed and soaked my shirt, burning the sensitive skin beneath it. Shit.

"Child, what were you doing thinking so hard on something just now?" Gran's beautifully aged face held so much concern for me that I almost wanted to cry at the sight of it.

I didn't, of course.

"I'm sorry, I was just... I just lost track of - "

"Reality?" Gran finished for me. The woman was nothing if not sarcastic.

"Well, I was going to say 'time,' but sure, I guess I did zone out there for a minute." My skin was starting to feel uncomfortable underneath the wet shirt where the water scalded it, and I no longer wanted to be in the kitchen at that moment. Especially under the scrutiny of Gran's fierce gaze.

"Here's your tea Gran, I'll be right back, I'm just gonna go change." I booked it out of the kitchen so fast I thought I might actually trip on the stairs and maybe sprain my ankle, just to really start off the day with a bang.

\----------

Eric

When I'd stepped out of the airport into the California sun two days earlier, feeling as fresh as a pair of three week old gym socks, I swore that I'd never drink again. Being hungover while cruising at fuck-all-thousand feet does not a pleasant high-flying experience make.

Yet there I was, toasting with Señora Patron again to Ingmar's success. The surfing competition his new agent threw him in last minute went off without a hitch. It was rather hilarious. Ingmar literally blew the other surfers out of the water. Most of them were too stoned to actually care, but the few legit competitors in the bunch got mad pissed at "the Nor'easter" as they called him. Burger and I had loved watching the whole thing go down on the sidelines, innocent bystanders as we were. But, if any of the Z-boys got out of hand and asked for a beat down, Ingmar knew we had his back. Having brothers, if anything, meant you always had a built in peanut gallery/backup at a moment's notice.

The glory of Southern California beaches however, are the freak-shows that make their home on them. What's happening in the water out beyond the break is seldom the most interesting thing to observe. The old hippies and ex-punks strolling up and down the promenades, attempting to make a buck, score a burrito, or maybe just a dime bag by trying to be the most random person out there; that's where the true competition takes place. 24/7, 365.

Burger's personal favorite of the Randoms - due to his "sheer dedication to the craft of his freakdom," as he would say - was The Patriot. A man who would roller blade up and down the boardwalks with a cap outstretched in his hand - on the off chance that someone would want to place a few coins or bucks in it, to compensate him for sharing all his strange glory with the public. The reason for his patriotic nickname though, was his attire. The only thing he wore was a red, white and blue thong and a moderately sized American flag flying out behind him, with the pole securely settled in between his ass cheeks. Never once had we seen the flag fall or even falter from it's position. That pole was locked up tight. Literally.

I couldn't even make that shit up if I wanted to. Seriously, though, what happens if he ate it and fell on his ass?

I didn't even want to think about it.

Still, halfway through our trip and I had managed to already break my resolution of never drinking again. Not only by drinking, but by slinging back the cruel mistress that had left me so broken the few days prior. I justified it by telling myself this was for Ingmar, and that celebrations were in order. His agent was ready to have his children, and we were pretty sure he'd take her up on the offer if the subject was ever broached. Or, if Burger didn't beat Ingmar to the metaphorical punch first. I was betting on Burger.

The second she saw the three of us walking down the terminal to meet her back at the airport, I literally saw her knees buckle as her eyes simultaneously widened. She flung out her arm to catch her balance on the chauffeur next to her, holding up a card that read "Northman Brothers." I do suppose that we were rather intimidating as we flanked each other, side by side. All of us stood above six feet tall, and had a mane of shaggy blond hair, paired with blue eyes. We weren't naive; we knew how to read women.

Burger chuckled at her reaction, leaning over a second later and saying, "oh, we're gonna have fun with her."

Sure enough, true to our word, two days later, we were. More correctly, they were. I was keeping to myself, wondering when and if I would ever grow a set, and finally call Sookie. I had been sitting on that post-it note for two days. I felt like her phone number had burned itself into my ass, branding me with my own insecurity when it came to her. I hated that feeling; I wanted it gone. Hence why the mistress and I were getting reacquainted.

Here's to you, little black insecurity cloud, Skål! Now, gothefuckaway.

As for Ingmar's agent, Missie Summers - yes, that was her given name, apparently - I doubted that her behavior was actually professional, sitting on Burger's lap and all, while he fed her shots of Jose Cuervo and slices of lime. But, she was a sweet woman who believed in Ingmar's potential and had a "three year plan" for him so meticulously organized I think his balls shrank a little at the sight of it.

Knowing she took her job seriously when it was called for, what was the harm in a little fun? I wouldn't let anything (much) happen that they'd be embarrassed about in the morning. I was keeping my drinking to a minimum; when the time came for her to go back to her house, I'd make sure she found a nice taxi cab that would take her there.

I did, however, disappear for an hour, trying to work up said courage to call Sookie, so Missie was left unsupervised during that time. Though, apparently, I didn't have anything to worry about. By the time I came back from my ball-searching walk to our hotel suite - complete with a deck that lead down to the beach, pimped out with a stainless steel grill - I didn't have to search long to find my brothers. They were both out on the deck, along with Missie and several other surfers from the competition. Someone had brought along a cooler of beer and Ingmar was strumming a guitar. The impromptu toasting session we were having before in the small kitchen had turned into a full on party. I perked up a little at the sight of it.

My mind was slightly boggled though, when I spotted Burger with his requisite spatula in hand. I had no idea where Burger managed to find ground beef at one in the morning, but lo and behold, he was taking orders on the grill, cooking up cheeseburgers for anyone who asked.

Combined with the lulling sound of the waves crashing just down the beach and the soft warm breeze of California's October air, the night was almost perfect.

The only catch... the small piece of creased paper I could feel pressing into my back pocket.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick Timeline: Sookie and Eric met up on the jetty on Thursday morning. Sookie hadn't been to school in three days at that point.
> 
> Eric left for Cali on Friday.
> 
> Ingmar had his competition on Saturday, and that night they partied it up on the back deck of their hotel suite.

Sookie

"Not one day? Not one fucking day you could come here and say hi to Gran?"

I was furious. Jason and I had been in a marathon game of phone tag for the past week that would have even winded fucking FloJo. Ever since Gran's fall, I had been trying to get a hold of the idiot and he never even bothered to return my calls... until Saturday afternoon, that is.

"Sookie, I can't right now, I'm real busy with school."

"School! That's the excuse you're giving me? Jason, Jesus Christ, the woman who raised you could have died, and you don't even bother to get back to me until a week later?!"

"But she didn't, and I was busy!"

"Doing what? Boinking your benefactor?"

He didn't answer; I only heard him sigh. Proof fucking positive.

"So, I guess this means we're not going to be seeing you anytime soon, oh Brother mine?"

Silence again. All I could hear was him breathing into the receiver. He was obviously agitated. Good. If I was pissed off, he should be too. At the very least.

As the silence grew from mere moments to minutes, I actually thought that maybe he was trying to put together a legitimate reason for his constant absence from this family, or at least a plan to eventually come and see Gran. She missed him so much, and luckily was blind to his douchebaggery. Jason did love Gran and had always been on his best behavior around her. This was a good thing in my opinion. The woman would have a stroke if she knew how skewed her boy actually was.

When I heard Jason take a breath on the other end of the line, I knew he was ready to spill. I held my own breath in, not wanting to miss a word of the surely profound statement to come.

"I... just don't... have... the money right now."

"Money!? Bull SHIT!" I screamed back at him before throwing my phone clear across the yard.

Money. Ha! The fucker was rolling in it. Congratulations Jason, that was the most pathetic excuse for an excuse, ever. Take a bow.

"Sookie?" I heard Gran call from inside the house.

"Comin' Gran." I pushed up off the chaise lounge I was... well, lounging on, and ran up into the house. It was probably time to start dinner anyway. At least bothering myself with trying to remember a recipe and compiling the ingredients for it would keep my mind off of my brother.

Jason was slowly turning into a lost cause in my book. Not that he was destitute or anything. Far from it. He had a rather interesting arrangement that kept him in a good college with a constant bank roll at his disposal. We never discussed this with Gran. To her, Jason was working his way through school by waiting tables.

Sometimes ignorance can be bliss.

That night, I burned the crust of the chicken pot pie while somehow managing to undercook the chicken. The glory of Gran's famous recipe went up in smoke by the time Jeopardy aired. By Wheel of Fortune, we were eating simple tuna fish sandwiches and I wasn't speaking, due to my embarrassment with the dinner. I hated being wasteful and didn't want to aim my ire at Gran. None of this was her fault.

My attempts at not letting Jason's behavior get to me had clearly failed. I went to sleep frustrated and feeling guilty for ruining Gran's dinner.

Seriously, how can you mess up chicken fucking pot pie? Not to mention, with the number of times I had made that particular recipe before, I swear, I could have completed it to a T in my sleep. I felt humiliated even though I knew Gran didn't care and had enjoyed her tuna sandwich without complaint. I tried to get past my feelings and sleep, but the whole situation still irked me slightly.

The next day would be Sunday, and I knew Mrs. Bellefleur would come to pick up Gran in the morning to go to church and then brunch after. I'd have the house to myself until noon. Great. Fine. Fabulous. A big old empty house just to myself. I let a sarcastic spiteful laugh escape me and filter into the darkness of my bedroom. It seemed to echo off the walls and fall back towards me, having no one else for the sound to bounce off of.

I hated feeling alone.

\--------

The house phone rang that night at 3am. It woke me out of my not-so-sound sleep, but I didn't pick it up, figuring it must be someone dialing the wrong number. People rarely called the house, unless it was one of Gran's friends, and they'd surely all be asleep by that time. I didn't worry about the noise from the ring waking her up, either. Once Gran had taken out her hearing aids, she was as deaf as a bat is blind.

Still, I rolled over in bed and listened for the machine to pick up, wondering if they'd leave a message. My bedroom was on the first floor, down the hall from the kitchen. With the door open you could hear everything in the house. Tonight was no exception.

Sure enough, five rings in, the machine picked up. I heard Gran's lilting cadence as she trilled a sweet message for the caller to please leave one of their own. Whoever had called obviously stayed on the line throughout Gran's little speech, but hung up before the beep. I frowned into the darkness. Who would listen to the answering machine and then not leave a message?

I pondered that for a minute before coming to my senses and wondering about the real question at hand. Who the hell would call at 3am?

\---------

Eric

"Kompis, what the hell are you doing?" Burger said from behind me.

"Shh... I'm gonna leave a message."

"For who?" He paused and then snapped his fingers, as his brain simultaneously snapped into awareness. "You douche! It's 3am back on the east coast! Hang the fuck up!" He grabbed the phone out of my hand before I could get a chance to argue, or even realize that he was right. He snapped the phone shut and we both stared at it, quiet and unmoving in his hand. My Jedi mind tricks weren't working on the damn thing, but I kept on willing it to go off. I wanted to hear it ring.

Burger didn't move either; we were both, apparently, anticipating it to ring. We waited a full minute.

It didn't ring.

Shit.

"Shit," I said, rubbing my hands over my face.

"You finally called her. Well, it only took you three days bro."

"Two."

"Nay bitch. It's past midnight. Read it and weep," he said while holding out my phone to me, the time glowing out of its illuminated face. 12:04. Damn. I took the phone back from him and tucked it in my back pocket, next to the post-it note with Sookie's number on it. It was now the back pocket of shame.

My brother was staring at me, half paternally concerned, half dazed.

"Who let you drunk dial anyway? You know the rules."

"You're right, you're right. I don't know what it is, Burger, she's got me totally off my game."

"Off your game? Kompis, the game was over two days ago. You're just still circling the track in vain, like in that annoying ass Cake song."

My brother was now entering the phase of somewhat cryptic, slightly skewed analogies. It was time for me to take over the grilling duties and get some food in his stomach before he started trying to spew spontaneous poetry to impress Missie. Ingmar would never let him live that shit down. Frankly, neither would I, and I would gladly just let him run off and wax poetical all over the place, but he saved me from leaving a buzzed message on Sookie's machine at 3am. I owed the man.

\---------

Sunday was a blur of breakfast burritos and beach. My brothers and I, yet again, spent the day recovering from our hangovers. This time, however, we were lying on the sand, and the only one to yell at for making too much noise was the surf crashing along the shore. The damn waves never did listen to us, sadly, so we just sat in slightly agitated silence, hoping that all the eggs and rice we had consumed that morning would absorb the copious amounts of alcohol in our systems.

However, when you're hungover, you're naturally irritable, and at some point you enter a phase where you just want to start shit for the sake of seeing shit start. This was Ingmar's state of mind when he asked me - "Did you ever call up that chick from back home?" - around two in the afternoon, while we were still lying gingerly on the sand.

"Sorta," I mumbled out of the side of my mouth since I was lying on my stomach on a towel. It wasn't the best body position for in depth discussion to talk place. I'd probably start drooling all over the damn towel or some such shit. And there was no way in hell I was gonna move.

"Sorta?"

I let his pseudo question hang in the air. I wasn't taking the bait. I didn't want to talk about it. I was embarrassed and felt guilty. The little black insecurity cloud had gone away, sure, but I think it took my balls with it. I was pissed about that.

Ingmar started humming the theme music to Jeopardy. I practically growled into the towel, shoved off the sand and hoofed it back to the hotel suite. Fuck that. I was nursing a headache and a raging case of mid-afternoon wood. Hence my position on the beach. I didn't really feel like showing off my salute to the entire west coast beach scene. It had been painful, shoved into the towel, but, I wanted to keep that shit at bay. My emotions regarding Sookie were fuckall confusing, and not knowing how she was, was completely getting to me. I hated being uncertain.

I paced around the hotel suite for a few minutes, willing my erection down. I actually started talking to it a few times, but felt way to insane by the second uttering of "come on kompis, simmer down now," so I stopped. If one of my brothers walked in on me talking my penis down, I'd never hear the end of it. I think it'd be less embarrassing actually if they walked in on me pumping one off.

Regardless, I was stalling. I ran to my room and found my jeans lying on a heap in the corner. I picked them up and fished out the post-it and my cell from my back pocket of shame. It was around eleven on the west coast, which made it just about 2 back home on the east. Sookie would be up, surely.

I dialed quickly and held my breath as the phone rang. I felt a little weird and wrong calling Sookie with a boner, that was no doubt caused by her, but the second she picked up the phone and I heard the strain in her voice, my erection fell immediately. Something was wrong, I could tell. And all she had said was "Hello?"

"Sookie?" I spoke tentatively, not knowing how to proceed.

"Yes, this is she? Who are you? You sound familiar." Her curiosity momentarily masked the depression in her tone.

"It's Eric..."

Silence.

Shit.

"Eric Northman?" She asked and her voice had turned so acidic I thought my cell phone would start disintegrating right there in my hand. Her question was rhetorical, however. She knew exactly who I was, and right then, I was majorly intimidated by that fact.

"Yeah, I wanted to call and tell you..."

"Shut up."

I did. She was pissed, clearly, and I didn't want to give her any extra ammunition.

I heard movement in the background on Sookie's end of the line. The scraping of a chair. The punching of buttons on what sounded like another phone. Then, nothing.

"You called last night, didn't you?" She asked. I guess the buttons belonged to a caller-ID.

I hung my head. "Yah, I did. I'm sorry about that, I didn't realize the tim---"

She cut me off again. "Fuck you Northman. Why even bother calling? You rescinding your invitation for the inlet or some such shit?"

"What? No. No, that's why I wanted to call. I'm out of town." Crap, she went, she did. She needed my company and I wasn't there. Fuck.

"That's fine Northman, don't worry your pretty little blond head about it." All emotion had left her voice. Even her fire and acidity from before had turned into a nonchalance that worried me. She was shutting me out. Fuck, I wish I were telling her this face to face. I could touch her hair, or feel her skin. Let the energy between us reconnect and flow. Talking over the phone just felt... flat.

"Enjoy your vacation or wherever the fuck 'out of town' is," she said with mock sincerity.

"Sookie, just let me explain..."

"No. I won't. And quit calling the house in the middle of the night for fuck's sake. In fact, stop calling period."

She hung up suddenly and I was left, standing in my hotel bedroom a little more than slightly shell shocked.

What the hell had happened in the past two days to make her go back to the inlet? Did her grandmother get hurt again? Was she hurt?

I had gained and lost her trust, all within 60 some-odd hours since I'd seen her at the jetty. That had to be a record of some kind. She was calling me 'Northman' too. I hated when she referred to me by my last name. She always managed to make it sound like the vilest word in the English language.

"That didn't sound too good," Burger said from the doorway, pulling me out of my musings. I turned my head to glare at him.

"No shit, Sherlock."

"What are you gonna do?"

I had already decided before he even asked the question.

"Fly home early. Can Missie up my flight?"

"Sure, I guess. I'll give her a call."

Two hours later I was at LAX, waiting for my flight to board, still slightly boggled at how the powers that be could manage to get away with having an airport directly in the middle of a sprawling urban metropolis. In this day and age, that shit just seemed to be a contradiction in terms, not to mention slightly nerve wracking. Or maybe I was just having paranoid side effects from the hash we'd smoked the previous night?

My brothers didn't mind me heading home a day early. Burger actually put on his paternal hat, and said it was better that I wouldn't be missing an extra day of school. I rolled my eyes at him. Ingmar just lounged across three seats in the waiting area, insisting that airports were great places to pick up women, and that he was happy to have an extra go at his theory before leaving the next day.

My only regret for leaving early - which was just a slight hesitation really - was not getting enough quality time in at the In-N-Out burger. A west coast institution and luxury. That place was pure love to the Brothers Northman; we never failed to visit at least a dozen times when out west.I got one last chance to stop by on the way to the airport to grab a glorious, never frozen, all beef, Double-Double, and believe me, I savored that beautiful, freshly made burger as if I were on death row and it were my last meal. It was my swan song to California. See you real soon.

On the plane I concocted my plan regarding Sookie. Monday morning I'd be at the inlet extra early. Of course, she wouldn't be there, and I knew that my two hours of sitting in the parking lot would be in vain, but on the slight off chance that she might even dare to drive by, I'd be there, ready.

If and when my inlet plan failed, I'd head to the senior parking lot at the school to wait out her arrival. If I was lucky and got there within enough time, I could park right next to her normal spot. She'd of course try to park farther away from me, but she'd notice I was back. At least my presence would be known.

The rest of the plan consisted of me attempting to get her attention throughout the day any way I could. We had homeroom, English and lunch periods together. Not to mention the many times in the halls I could 'accidentally' bump into her. That fucking Sam kid did it all the time. Though, I do believe his motivation was to simply brush his constant hard on up against her. Horn dog.

As the plane landed back on the east coast, and I felt my anticipation grow to see Sookie again, one little stray thought made its way into my brain. What if she wasn't back in school at all?

I smiled at my own paranoia. The answer to that was simple. If she wasn't at school, I'd make a house call.

\--------

Sookie

Gran had insisted that I go to school on Monday. I agreed with her. I missed it, oddly enough. I guess you can call me a dork, but I actually enjoyed learning. I enjoyed studying to ensure that I knew the correct answer to every single question we'd have on tests. I enjoyed the satisfaction I felt when I got my grades and saw the small column of 'A+'s on my report cards each term. I got off on being smart. I didn't have money to gain respect, but I did have my mind.

Most of the students in the school didn't have to worry about their academic standing since their parents would pay for them to go to any college they wanted, or do anything they desired (as long as it was somewhat legal, of course). I, on the other hand, relied on actual intelligence, and I enjoyed expanding on said intelligence any chance I could get.

I had missed a week of school. Surely, I'd be testing my limits today. So would my teachers, no doubt, not that I really cared about their opinions as long as I got my A's.

What I did care about was the prospect of seeing Eric again. I didn't know if he'd be back from his "out of town trip" yet, but more so than I'd ever admit, I wanted him to be in school.

I justified this urge by telling myself it was so I could bitch slap him in front of the entire student body. I let myself mentally picture that and it was a thrill indeed. However, I was lying to myself, really. I wanted him to be in school so I could see if he was the reason I felt so calm last Thursday. I wasn't upset or angry in his presence that day, and the warmth I could feel coming off his body was soothing to me. It was nice, albeit temporary. I hadn't felt completely "soothed" since. I was constantly on edge for the rest of the week and I wanted to know if it was him that put me at ease.

Not that I couldn't function without him or anything depressingly emo like that. No, it was just that, prior to our meeting on the jetty, I had always had a problem dealing with my nerves at times, and the constant inner monologue of worrisome shit swirling around my head; not knowing how to quiet it. That morning, it all left when he showed up. I was hoping it was a fluke, but like a dare-devil seeking an adrenaline rush, I still wanted to know for sure, and of course, that meant wanting to see Eric. Dammit.

On the way to school, I almost drove by the inlet in hopes of "seeing" him and getting my damned little experiment out of the way. The sooner I could be in his presence, realize that his oddly soothing nature around me was in fact a fluke, and the sooner I could get on with my life, the better.

No dice, though. I chickened out a block away, and turned to head to the school instead. I'd be getting there extra early, but I didn't care. I'd sit in my car, blast some tunes and relax as best as I could before venturing into the onslaught of makeup work that awaited me inside those hallowed halls.

That's exactly what I did too. I was half way through the guitar glory that was Kashmir when a knock sounded on my passenger side door. I didn't bother opening my eyes much except to lean over and unlock the door. I knew it was probably Amelia wanting to join on the listening session. This is what we did in the mornings before school. If the weather was nice, we sat on the hoods of our respective vehicles and listened to tunes, chatting up the day. If the weather wasn't so compliant, we'd sit inside the car to carry out the routine.

However, when I felt the sink of the car, as my new passenger slid into the seat next to me, I knew it wasn't Amelia. She was a slight little thing. The car barely registered her presence when she sat down in it, and unless she had gone cuckoo for cocoa puffs and gained an obscene amount of weight over the past week, the person next to me wasn't her. Shit. I refused to open my eyes for a minute, thinking that maybe they'd go away. They didn't. Instead I heard the click of the car door being gently closed as I tried to ignore them, by bobbing my head to the tune filtering through my speakers. Whoever they were, they were smart enough to let Jimmy finish out his little masterpiece of musicianship on the stereo before speaking.

Not that he needed to. He shifted in his seat and the stagnant air of the car moved around us. Almost immediately, my car was filled with his scent and I knew who it was. I smelt soap and warmth and coconut oil, and shit, I instantly felt calm.

Maybe it was coconut oil that calmed me? If so, I'd have to high tail it to Costco as soon as school let out, and stock up on that shit, stat. Seriously, if that could solve my little nerve problems, I'd buy that stuff in bulk and invest in its stock. But, I knew I was in denial. A bath oil wasn't going to give off warmth, or sit next to me large and present, buzzing with energy, filling the emptiness beside me. He would, though.

Shit, too bad I was majorly pissed at Eric. Where the hell was he when I actually wanted his company on Sunday? Out of town. It was a perfectly good excuse, so why was I still fuming? Anger was just an easier emotion to deal with. It was simple, uncomplicated.

"Sookie..." Eric started to speak and gently brushed his fingers over the back of my hand. He must have shifted his feet on the carpet of the floor, because the second he touched me I felt an electric spark and jumped. My eyes flew open and I stared down at my hand, the pain tingling on the back of my wrist where his fingers had grazed.

In the slightest whisper, I said a disbelieving, "ow," while staring down at my hand. Goosebumps had spread out along my arm. Eric's fingers still hadn't moved away; they were hovering above my hand, waiting, I supposed. The moment I spoke, his large hand enveloped my tiny one and rubbed soothingly along my arm and wrist, calming the goosebumps on my skin. I didn't dare look up at his eyes. I didn't want to see his face. It was probably filled with remorse and sincerity.

The car suddenly felt stifling and hot. I felt claustrophobic, even though Eric's close proximity kept me relaxed. I didn't want to be relaxed around him; I wanted my agitation and my anger back. Dammit. If I stayed in the car, I didn't know what would happen.

I didn't want to find out.

I opened the car door and shot out as fast as I could, leaving the keys in the ignition behind me. Eric's hand tried to hold me back for all of a second before he let go. I was grateful. I needed space. And air.

I ran up to the school, only stopping once I was inside the doors, the parking lot safely shut out behind me. I walked to homeroom in a daze, my brain a mass of questions. I didn't even realize that I had left all of my things in the car until Eric walked in ten minutes later with my books, bag, and car keys in hand. He cautiously walked over to my desk and put them down neatly in front of me. There were only four other people in homeroom that early, and their faces held looks of complete and utter shock. The Bitch was being handed her books and car keys by the high school Hellcat. What had the world come to?

I glared up at Eric. He tentatively smiled back down at me. It was a knowing look that had a very we'll-talk-about-this-later vibe to it. His smile was forced, though; he clearly had other things on his mind. Thankfully, he didn't linger. Other students were filtering in and I could already hear their whisperings about why Eric and I were having such an odd exchange of looks and books in front of my desk. I groaned internally. I didn't want the extra attention today.

We walked past each other several times in the hallways throughout the day. I ignored him each time. He'd try to get my attention, but I wouldn't listen or even bother to look. I didn't want to. Call me a chicken, but I just didn't want to deal with it.

By lunch, the entire school seemed to be whispering one thing or other about the strange exchange Eric and I had had that morning. Amelia came over to me to explain that Tara Thornton saw the two of us sitting in my car, and wanted to know if we were actually dating, or just hooking up. "Fuck buddies," as she so eloquently put it. I rolled my eyes at Amelia as she relayed the message, trying to convey the ridiculousness of her assumption through that simple gesture. To make matters worse, Tara plopped down next to her a second later, her face full of expectance. As if I would actually share those kinds of details with anyone.

My reaction, however, apparently confirmed, in Tara's silly little mind, that I was in fact just hooking up with Northman and not dating him. She looked pleased with herself for all of a second before she gave me a jealous glare, got up from the table and stomped off. Later that day, as we walked past each other on the way to our respective science classes, I thought she actually might spit in my face she looked so irate. Tara had had a crush on Eric since he'd moved here. Most of the girls in the school did. Eric never bothered with any of them seriously, though, except for Pam.

That now put me on a very short and enviable list. A list I didn't care at all to be on. Especially if Pam found out. That girl, I swear, drank the blood of virgins for breakfast. She intimidated the shit out of me. We had Biology together final period, and the entire time she glared at me from her perch across the room. She was like a hawk eyeing its prey. I was done for, surely. She had been texting with someone the entire class, and even in my frightened state, I was curious to know who it was. My curiosity didn't spur me to have a conversation with her, however. On the contrary, I wanted to get out of that classroom as soon as I possibly could.

Which was apparently a pipe dream, because no sooner did the last bell ring than I felt a set of very long elegant fingers tightly grip me around my upper arm. I tried to yank away, but the owner of the hand had me in a death grip. Not that I didn't know who it was, hence my struggle. I turned towards Pam resentfully, and looked up into her perfectly angelic face, framed by wisps of blonde ringlets, despite the fact that her expression was anything but angelic. In fact, she looked downright lethal.

I held back an urge to scratch her eyes out and run.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" She asked.

"Nothing, just going to my car."

"I meant with Eric."

"Nothing Pam, he's all yours. Nothing happened, I swear."

"And why has nothing happened?" She asked, her nose rising infinitely higher into the air.

"Excuse me?" I asked, completely baffled.

"I know a hung up Eric when I see him. He's got a thing for you for some ungodly reason and you're ignoring him like an immature brat. All he wants to do is apologize. What. The. Fuck?"

Her voice was a flat but deep alto that I'm sure guys just creamed themselves over. The woman was made to boss people around. Teenage boys probably loved that shit, but not me. I was confused and scared beyond belief. And why the hell was she still holding onto my arm? I yanked away again; she simply turned our bodies so that we were walking side by side and slipped her graceful arm through mine. It now looked like we were two amiable friends taking a stroll. Too bad I wanted to scream FIRE and get the fuck away from her before she snapped my head off.

"Well Sookie?" She asked after a minute of our stroll to the parking lot. Her voice was all saccharine and flowers.

"Well, what Pam?" I asked while batting my eyelashes. Girls around us were staring, no doubt wondering why I was walking to the parking lot with the Queen B of École Lafayette. I didn't blame them. She was even wearing a fucking headband. Her last name might as well have been Waldorf.

"Are you going to give our Eric a chance?"

"A chance to what, Pam?" I asked, still speaking in the cotton-candy tone she had adopted the second we left the Biology room.

"Don't play dumb bitch, it doesn't suit you."

"Don't call me a bitch, bitch."

"I'll call you what's warranted. And when it comes to Eric you are a true salope."

"Cursing in French, my, my, we are sophisticated at this school."

"Shut up for a minute. I like you. I do. But if you decide to stay Eric's enemy, you become mine. Do you understand me?"

"I suppose..." I started to say but she cut me off.

"Your brother, Sookie. I know his little arrangement with a friend of my mother's."

I blanched on the spot. I was completely and utterly dumbfounded. Talk about hitting below the belt. Salope indeed. Salope, chienne, garce et chipie! Just for good measure.

"Pam, I..."

"Oh quit shitting your pants little girl, I won't tell anyone. Besides the only one who'd really care would be your Grandmother, and I'm sure she doesn't need the extra stress."

"That still sounds like one hell of a threat to me, Pam."

"Don't worry, it's not. I never intended it to be. Just go talk to the damn boy." She motioned across the parking lot to where Eric was just then arriving at his car. I saw the dent in the back of the Impala and felt infinitely more guilty all of a sudden. He gave the pair of us a quizzical stare, which answered my question that he had nothing to do with this little exchange Pam decided to have with me. That put me slightly at ease. Though, I guess I now knew who Pam was texting during Bio.

"Pam, why should I trust you? You don't owe me anything, and the last thing my Gran needs is more 'stress' right now."

She didn't respond; she simply smiled down at me with her arms folded, and glanced towards Eric.

"Seriously Pam, I can't..." she cut me off again.

"Sookie, I thought you were quicker on the uptake than this." She looked at me expectantly, and I just stared right back. Truthfully, I had forgotten how to form a coherent sentence.

Pam sighed, "I never should have brought your brother up; I can see we've gotten off track because of it. Don't worry, honestly. You stay on Eric's good side, you stay on mine. It's that simple."

"What if Eric doesn't want me on his good side?"

I was grasping at straws. I knew it. So did she.

"Would we be having this conversation if that were the case?"

She looked at me with a slightly amused expression as I felt the corners of my mouth curve up into a small grin at her last words. My smile wasn't from any assurance I felt at her statement, it was from fucking nerves, but still, Pam seemed to take it as an understanding on my part, and smiled back. That caused the atmosphere between us to shift to a more non-threatening variety.

"Do I have to talk with him now?" I dared to ask.

She arched an eyebrow, "Salope?"

"Truie?" I shot right back.

"Touché."

"Merci."

With that strange French sparring match over, I gave her a slight nod as if to dismiss myself. She smiled at me like a feral cat and I turned on my heel before she could scratch me, even though I do believe she would thoroughly approve of the stunt I was about to pull.

I strutted off towards Eric's car, which was conveniently parked next to mine. He still gave me a questioning look as I passed him, trying not to meet his eyes, but giving him a small smile and nod all the same. I didn't want to look into his eyes just yet. I couldn't.

I think he expected me to pause when I reached him, but I'm pretty sure I surprised both Eric and Pam when I climbed into my car without so much as a wave goodbye to either of them. I could almost feel Eric's eyes boring into my car as I started up the engine. The boy was nothing, if not stoic.

I fumbled for a minute with the stereo, trying to find the song I was looking for on my iPod. I didn't want Eric to apologize to me just yet, and in fact, there really was nothing for him to apologize for. I was pissed at Jason, not him. I was too prideful to tell Eric that, though, and didn't really feel like explaining myself to him in that moment anyway. I'd let Guns N' Roses do the talking.

After finding the song I wanted on the iPod, I hit play and turned up the volume to full blast. Something I hadn't done in weeks. It was invigorating just to turn the small dial and I inhaled a deep breath to steel my nerves as I cranked it.

The late October air was cold on my skin, but I didn't care; I rolled down the windows and let the whistling refrain begin my little salute to Eric, as I slowly backed out of my spot. I skipped ahead a few lines on the iPod, not wanting to idle in the parking lot too long before letting Axl sing me out of the school grounds. I even started to sing with him as I pushed heavily on the pedal to speed away from everyone's curious eyes.

.... All we need is just a little patience.

Said, sugar make it slow and we'll come together fine.

All we need is just a little patience....

It was a little hilarious, yes, and maybe even a little too showy, but it served its purpose.

I only allowed myself one glance in the rearview mirror to gauge Eric's reaction on my way out of the lot. He was smiling from ear to ear, and I couldn't help but grin back at him. The boy had a sense of humor. Thank god.

Hopefully, Pam wouldn't have my head for my little stunt, but I thought it was very appropriate for the moment, and as long as Eric was smiling, I do believe she'd be satisfied.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that if I could rewrite this corn ball of a chapter, I would.

Eric

She never showed at the inlet, like I knew she wouldn't. I had sat there for an hour and a half waiting, more jittery than a squirrel on crack laced with a caffeine binge. I was going back and forth between listening to music and lying on the hood of the car, staring up at the gulls circling in the sky. Anything to kill time and calm me down, but she never showed.

That was okay, though; I was expecting that, and I could handle it - mentally at least. But my body didn't take it too well as I moved on to part two of my plan of attempting to catch Sookie in the parking lot of the school. My keys jingled against my thigh in an accelerated rhythm as my legs bounced up and down with anticipation when I got back into my car and started up the engine. In my head I was staying focused, but dammit, my body needed to calm down. I was too level for this shit.

The drive to school from the inlet was mercifully short, thanks to a few minor speed limit violations, so I didn't have to hear the annoying jangle of keys for too long. When I turned into the half empty lot my stomach dropped, and a foreign emotion crept into my psyche that I couldn't quite place. Sookie's rusty old Nova was sitting there, in its normal spot, and I could see the back of her blonde ponytail bobbing to some music that I couldn't quite make out. She had the stereo turned to a normal volume. Knowing that messed with my head a bit; was she playing her music low because of what I had said to her at the inlet? I would like to believe that, but I didn't want to assume anything when it came to Sookie.

I pulled in next to her as quietly as my Impala would allow, and cut the engine, watching her the entire time. Her head didn't turn in my direction as I popped open my car door, and her eyes stayed closed. She seemed focused on her music. Good.

I wasn't originally planning on invading her personal space; I hadn't really planned past getting to see her, but before I knew it, I was gently knocking on her passenger side door, wanting entry. It looked cozy inside her old beat up car, and all I wanted right then was to be inside of it with her. Everything else regarding her anger towards me, and why I was gone when she needed me, had escaped my thought process.

I slid in next to her with a gentle ease, not wanting to disturb her. Kashmir was playing on her stereo, and she had been so absorbed in the music, she hadn't even looked to see who she was unlocking her door for when I had knocked. I took this as a good sign since we communicated better when we were closer to each other. This would be a chance to explain myself, and she didn't have the option to hang up on me.

Her posture stiffened the second I settled myself into the seat next to her. The air seemed to be sucked out of the car, and I wondered what the hell she was doing when she didn't open her eyes right away. She must have known it was me, otherwise she wouldn't have had that reaction. I started to panic when her posture remained rigid, and the silence between us grew. I reached to hold her hand and explain, but the second I touched her skin, my voice died in my throat from the shock that jolted through me.

Her eyes shot open and she stared down at our hands. Mine was hovering above hers, my fingers twitching to touch her again, but not wanting to disturb her further. God, this was so fucked up. We could barely have a civil conversation and yet we seemed to have this insane effect on each other. What the hell was this woman doing to me?

"Ow," was all she said, and it sounded breathless and unbelieving. Goosebumps were spreading across her arm like ripples across the surface of stagnant water, and I wanted to stop them. I put my hand back on hers; it rested warmly and happily on top of her slight wrist, and I rubbed up and down her arm with my palm, wanting to ease the skin and the odd tension that had erupted around us as suddenly as her goosebumps.

Sookie didn't have the option to hang up on me, but she did have the option to run, and that's exactly what she did... she ran.

She didn't let me soothe her like I wanted. She shot out of the car not ten seconds after I had touched her, and booked it towards the main doors of the school, leaving everything behind her... including me.

My fingers tingled from where they had touched her, seeking out her warmth once again and being denied. I sat there, listening to the dinging of the ring that sounded from the car door being left ajar, hating it. I pulled her keys out of her ignition and let the silence overtake me.

Shit.

Nothing had gotten accomplished, except for one hell of a confusing mind fuck, on both our accounts. What the hell had just happened?

I took a few moments in her car to settle my randomly erratic breathing. Where the fuck did my random respiratory problem come from? She was officially killing me.

When I finally got my head back on straight and my brain functioning properly with the right amount of oxygen reaching it again, I realized, Sookie had none of her things. Even her purse sat on the floor by my feet. I stared down at as if it were a bomb about to blow. Girls' purses were sacred objects to them; they put their most secretive shit in those things. That was a world men were not allowed to enter, ever - unless, of course, they wanted to carry one of their own.

I did not want to carry a purse. At all. Especially the one sitting at my feet, blatantly taunting me with its faux leather finish. Little bastard. Nevertheless, I was pretty sure that I had to. It wasn't as if Sookie was going to come back to her car in a few minutes, pop her head in, grab her things, and say, "I'm sorry Eric, let's go and talk about all this crazy shit at your place after school," and make my world normal again. No, that most definitely wasn't going to be happening anytime soon. So, begrudgingly, I picked up her purse with an extremely delicate touch as if it were a god damn newborn baby - because jesus, if something spilled out of it, I really wouldn't know what to do - and then grabbed her books off the cluttered back seat.

As I got out of her car, I noticed for the first time how many eyes were actually trained on me. Basically the entire parking lot. Well, shit, looks like I just became the front page news. Not only had I just gotten out of Sookie's car, I was carrying her books and purse to her homeroom for her. I looked all the part of the doting, pussy-whipped boyfriend. Fuck, she was going to hate me for this.

Sure enough, when I placed the books on her desk in our homeroom, she shot daggers at me with her eyes. I tried to convey to her my apologies, while attempting to also tell her, all with a single look, that I was just trying to help. I doubt she got the message, but I didn't dare linger. More people were staring, and Sookie hated undue attention. Of this, I was certain, so I reluctantly made my way to the back of the class, sad to turn away from her. There were too many things we needed to talk about, and school just seemed like one big nuisance right at that moment.

The rest of the day seemed like torture. I had to do some make up work from the previous Friday during lunch and didn't get a chance to seek Sookie out in the cafeteria or out in the parking lots of the school, where she'd probably be with Amelia. I passed her several times in the hall, but didn't dare try and touch her again. Her eyes darted every which way each time I got close. I tried to get her attention as subtly as I could in a crowded hall, but she didn't look at me. Her avoidance was worse than her ire, and I found myself wishing slightly for a little of her anger again.

I texted Pam a few times, knowing she'd be in Biology with Sookie last period. Yes, I was acting like a creeper, but I didn't care; I was curious and being slowly driven insane by Sookie's mood swings. I needed information.

Pam was unapologetic as she texted back and forth with me in our respective final period classes. She called Sookie an ass several times for not acknowledging me. It was sweet and loyal of Pam to be so angered by the situation, but it was unnecessary. All I wanted to know was how Sookie looked and seemed. If she was visibly agitated or acting as usual.

Pam responded with, She's as white as a ghost and jittery as a crack head. I'd say that's normal.

I could almost feel the smirk on Pam's face, and smiled back at my phone involuntarily.

That's not making me feel better, I responded.

I'll handle it, she wrote back and my stomach dropped for the second time that day, except for a very different reason this time. Oh shit.

Pam, I'm telling you to leave her be.

She didn't respond, and ignored all my other texts for the rest of the period. This was not good. No matter how confusing Sookie was to me, she didn't deserve whatever it was that Pam was about to serve to her on a silver plater.

When the bell rang, I ran out to my car as fast as I could, hoping to get a good view of Pam and Sookie leaving the science wing of the school. I didn't know what to do other than wait, but what I saw when Sookie and Pam popped up in my vision was most definitely not what I had expected. They were walking side by side with linked arms and smiling at each other. Smiling... seriously?

The scene only spiraled further into all sorts of crazy when Sookie broke away from Pam with a slight nod, and Pam waved at her like Granny sending off Little Red Riding Hood. She walked over towards our cars in the lot with her head held high and her eyes carefully trained away from mine. I ran my hands through my hair in general confusion as I looked back and forth between Pam and Sookie, wishing someone would fill me in.

Then I heard it. That fucking Axl Rose whistling.

Sookie had gotten into her car and put on the song 'Patience' by Guns N' Roses. Was she trying to be funny? I turned back to gauge Pam's reaction and almost laughed out loud at the expression on her face. It went from utter shock to a smirk of realization so suggestive, she looked lethal. In other words, Pam was proud of Sookie. Pam was never proud of anyone. This was big; this could mean the apocalypse was coming.

As if the day couldn't have gotten anymore confusing. I needed a drink, badly, but despite myself, I started laughing.

I turned back to watch Sookie exit the parking lot with a dumbfounded smile on my face that probably made me look like a two bit fool. Yes, she was driving me insane, but shit, I liked it.

\----------

Sookie

I had only been home for a total of two minutes, having barely gotten a chance to do my daily ritual of washing my hands after school, when a knock sounded on the back door. It was urgent and impatient, and its owner knew to come round to the back of the house.

Only three people knew to come around to the back. The first being Terry, but he'd just walk right in.

That left me with two other options. One, my brother. No fucking way.

Two, Amelia...

Amelia.

Shit. Of course the girl would want the lowdown. I hadn't even spoken to her that morning at school, had skipped lunch to do catch up work with one of my teachers, and then sped off afterwards creating a scene I'm sure Cameron Crowe himself would be envious of. She probably felt left out or some such nonsense. That and my phone had been MIA for the past two days cause I just couldn't bring myself to go out and find it in the 'Lost' like wilderness that was my backyard, so anyone attempting to get ahold of me was being asked to 'please press one, or just wait for the tone.'

All the better, really. I didn't want to talk to anyone. Mostly. I did feel a need for inlet and jetty, coconut oil and warmth... but, talking? Not yet.

I dried my hands quickly, ran over to the old barn door of the kitchen, and opened the top half. There Amelia stood on the other side, with her hands on her hips and a smirk on her face. I couldn't help but smile back at her, albeit from nerves, not an overwhelming sense of joy from seeing her.

Amelia, however, seemed both overwhelmed and overjoyed. A telltale sign.

"Where's the happy flask?" I asked her.

"In the car. Along with Cyrald and the groceries. He's doing the cooking tonight and you're spilling," she said while pointing a perfectly manicured finger directly at me.

"Amelia, there's nothing to-"

"Oh yes there is. Northman deposited your purse, keys and books to you this morning... that's definitely not nothing! Here I thought this past week you were taking care of your poor sick Grandmother -"

"She's not sick," I snapped, cutting her off.

"Of course not," she said, waving her hand through the air nonchalantly.

A break in the exchange occurred then. Amelia didn't say or do anything except look at me knowingly, while I tried desperately to figure out how to keep her world class, personal French chef from invading my kitchen.

"Well," she said after a beat. "You gonna invite me in?"

She was tapping her foot. I couldn't see it because, it was behind the lower half of the door. I didn't want to see it. I didn't want to talk about anything regarding Eric or the past week to Amelia, but there she was, in my doorway, demanding it.

I sighed in defeat, accepting the inevitable, and unlatched the bottom handle for the door, swinging it open and inviting her in. She quickly texted something on her phone before explaining that she was telling Cyrald to wait an hour in the car before coming in to start dinner.

"An hour?" I asked, nervous at how much time Amelia and Frenchie were planning on spending at my house.

"Yes, its too early to start cooking dinner now. Gran likes to eat around 7, right?"

"Right," I answered, momentarily shocked by her surprising astuteness.

"Need I say more? Now! Talk to me."

Ten minutes later - after successfully evading the topic at hand by offering Amelia some tea - we were sitting on my front porch while sipping said tea out of Gran's handmade mugs. I had tried to dance around the topic of Eric, instead explaining to her about Gran's condition, while trying to think up a good enough explanation for the whole Eric situation, which was now most definitely a 'thinglet.'

Nothing was coming to me, and Amelia was starting to get impatient as she listened to me ramble on. I could tell by the way she bounced on the porch swing and looked around as if she wanted to start cleaning, or redecorating. Either one. Probably both. The girl knew I was stalling, and I was about two seconds away from her jumping on top of me and shaking me until she got out of me what she wanted to hear.

Sure enough, the second I started in on Terry's current mental health - when I officially had no more straws to grasp - she put a hand up in the air to halt me. I stared back at her, trying to feign innocence.

"Enough!" She said. "Enough. Sookie, seriously... I need to know. What is happening with you and Eric? You're fidgeting like mad over there and you've purposefully evaded every one of my attempts to even mention his name!"

"Whose name?" I was being purposely naive just to mess with her.

"Eric's!"

"Oh."

"I will call him if you don't give me the answers I'm looking for," she threatened.

"You have his number?"

"Of course."

This puzzled me. "Why?" I asked.

Amelia rolled her eyes. "Sookie, it is my job to know everyone and everything that is going on in that school. I'd lose my mind of boredom otherwise. Solely keeping my mind focused on chemistry and calculus just doesn't cut it."

"Does he know you have his personal information?"

"A phone number is hardly personal," she said while folding her arms.

I simply scowled at her.

"No, he doesn't," she confessed.

"That. Is so. Creepy."

"He gave it to me!"

"Wait, then how doesn't he know?"

"He may have been fairly wasted one night at a house party when I asked him for it," she said while scrunching her nose in embarrassment.

"You tried to hit on Northman?" I was shocked.

"You're being evasive again, Sooks."

"Naturally." I smirked at her, being cocky, even though I was interested in hearing the ending of that story.

She smirked back and pulled out her iPhone, threatening. My eyes widened in shock.

"Alright! Fine!" I said, putting my hands up in surrender. "But, I'm telling you, it's not as interesting as it seems."

"I'll be the judge of that. Now, spill." She folded herself up into a tiny little ball on my porch swing and looked at me with intent, expectant eyes. I narrowed mine back at her and attempted to tell her a version of my strange story that she'd accept. I left out seeing him at the jetty, and instead only focused on our meeting at the inlet, his invitation for me to talk with him, and explained that the only reason he was in my car that morning was because we were having one of our "talks." I explained the books, car keys and purse by telling her that I had simply forgotten them, and he was nice enough to bring them in for me.

At the end of my little rant, she didn't looked pleased.

"You're leaving stuff out. I can tell," she told me with squinting eyes.

I glared back at her. "Amelia, I'm telling you everything you wanted to hear. I swear."

"What about the fact that you two eye fuck each other every time you seem to look at one another?"

"That is not..." she folded her arms in disbelief and pouted at me in an overly dramatic fashion, "...true," I trailed off while lowering my head.

Eric and I did seem to have some kind of weird sexual tension, but it wasn't anything I had purposefully initiated with him. It was just his presence. He was comfortable to me. That is, when I allowed myself to relax around him, which up until this point had only been once. I couldn't handle him in my car this morning. He was too much, too close and too present. I panicked and ran like a damn coward.

"See, I can tell you're thinking about it," Amelia said to me from across the porch. I rolled my eyes.

"Just because I'm thinking about it doesn't mean I'm going to acknowledge it."

"Why not!?"

I shook my head, not having a proper answer for her. Not wanting to answer, because if I did, that meant I had actually acknowledged our chemistry in the first place, and I didn't know if I wanted to yet.

Shit, even in my head I sounded like a pansy. Not that I was even allowed to be a pansy anymore. I had to stay on Pam's good side and that meant being on Eric's good side. It wasn't as if I wanted to bitch at him anymore; I didn't. I just didn't know how to act around him at all. My head went fuzzy when I was near him, like a natural high, and I just wanted to... well slump into his arms and snuggle.

Sookie Stackhouse was not a snuggler, so what the fuck was wrong with me?

"Oh, you are so hung up, girl. I can see it from here," Amelia said, half laughing.

"What!?" I was shocked back into the present.

"Your face, you're so conflicted, its slightly hilarious, really."

"Is this supposed to make me feel better?"

"No, but at least you're realizing you have feelings for the guy. And that, my friend, is the first step." Amelia was smiling down at me like the god damned Cheshire cat, and her knowing smirk was driving me insane. I put my head in my hands and sighed heavily.

"Why are you freakin so much? Is it because of Pam? I know she intimidates..." Amelia started to say, but I cut her off.

"What?! Pam? No. I... uh... no."

Well, that statement was eloquence personified.

Amelia stared back at me like I had just spontaneously started foaming at the mouth in front of her. Frankly, I probably could have started chewing on the porch furniture and would have gotten a better reaction.

I tried to explain my incoherent outburst, but all I could come up with was a mere, "she scares me," before I put my head back in my hands.

Amelia laughed. "Of course she scares you. She's fucking apeshit bananas, coo coo for cocoa puffs insane! She doesn't care about anyone except herself, her headbands, Eric, and maybe one of her parents. My money's on the dad since he let her live in France for two years, but then again the mother does have her own clothin..." I cut her off.

"Focus, Amelia!"

"You're right. Anywho, what I'm saying is, if she took the time out to talk to you without wanting to physically harm you in the process, and you haven't mysteriously ended up dead in a ditch somewhere yet, I'd say you've gained a new friend Sooks." She ended her little rant with a simile, and I grimaced back at her.

"What ever happened to just sharing buckets in the sandbox?" I asked.

"Did you ever actually do that?"

"No."

Amelia grinned at me in triumph.

"So, what are you gonna do about Eric?" She asked.

I pondered that question for a second before answering, "I know! I'll trade in my Nova for Kitt and have him play music on the radio that goes along with my every mood so I'll never have to talk ever again."

In my head, the plan sounded brilliant, especially for being pulled out of my ass, but Amelia simply stared back at me with her arms folded, unimpressed.

She humored me anyway and said, "Well, first of all, I don't think the Germans would allow Kitt to ever leave Deutschland, and secondly, you do know what they say, don't you?" She asked.

"No, what do they say?"

"You Axl Rose a guy once, he smiles and buys a headband. You Axl Rose him twice, and he'll forever do the crab walk and his sex drive depletes to zero."

"Damn."

"Yes. It's a tragedy one shouldn't ever have to experience. I'd say just talk to the guy," she said, finishing with a shrug before pulling out her phone and a notepad to write his digits down on. She then surrounded the entire thing with little hearts in different sizes. I glared at her when I saw them, but she simply embellished further by adding a little arrow poking out one of the hearts. She was clearly enjoying herself way too much.

When she finally handed me the small slip of paper, my mouth went dry from the weight of having it in my hands alone. Not only had I acknowledged the "thinglet" between Eric and I, but I now had his number. It was just like adding fuel to the fire.

I was so screwed.

\--------

Eric

My brothers showed up that night around 10 from the airport, and they were acting like giggling fools. Seriously, it was like watching a pair of girls creaming their panties over that vampire dude who's so popular nowadays. They were shushing each other as they came in the door and I cocked my head at their antics, watching from the stairs as they walked into the foyer oblivious to my presence.

Then, I heard something bark.

What the fuck?

They shushed each other again, except I then realized they were shushing one of the suitcases they were carrying.... that just happened to be squirming on its own, and barking.

Suitcases don't squirm or bark. Those fuckers had brought home a dog? They have got to be kidding.

"This is a joke, right?" I said with my arms folded from my perch on the stairs. Both of my brothers looked up at me with glazed over and shocked eyes.

"Shit, kompis, we were gonna surprise you." Burger looked genuinely saddened that he didn't get to surprise me with the puppy. It was almost endearing.

"And how were you going to surprise me?" I asked while quirking my eyebrow.

They both looked guilty instantly. Ha, they were too easy to read.

"We were gonna dump him in your room and let him do all kinds of crazy to it," Ingmar shrugged, and then added, "now that we say it out loud, it doesn't really seem as funny."

Burger nodded his head whiled scratching the back of his neck in confusion. I could only snort at them. They were slightly ridiculous.

The bag barked again, and we all stared at it. No one moved.

"What do we do now?" Ingmar asked, sounding like an idiot.

"Take it out of the bag before the poor thing suffocates or defecates all over itself!" I half shouted. I didn't mean to yell, but I was just a tad flustered from their immature behavior.

"Oh," they both said before bending down and unzipping the bag, what popped out what not what I expected. I was having a lot of those 'unexpected' experiences today; they really needed to stop happening.

A bulldog puppy jumped out the bag the second they had pulled back the zipper, yipped at Ingmar's hand and came running up the stairs, only to stop directly at my feet and sit on one of them with a resounding plop. I stared down at it disbelieving. Oh hell no.

"It likes you!" Burger said with excitement. He sounded like a five year-old girl.

"Aww, that's cute," Ingmar added. I grimaced.

"You're not expecting me to take care of this thing, are you?" I asked.

"No, we all will. It's Missie's pup. We said we'd take care of it for a while, since she said there was a problem with her landlord or some such shit. She told us it was completely house trained though," Burger said, finishing with a shrug.

"She did?" I quirked my eyebrow again.

"Ja."

As if on cue, the little thing left its perch on my foot, and ran down the stairs and to the front door, as if it were getting ready to scratch it, asking to go out. But, instead of scratching at the door, it picked up its leg and whizzed all over the damn thing. I broke out into hysterics and started to walk back up the stairs, as far away from the dog piss as possible. I didn't even bother to look back down at my brothers', no doubt, priceless faces.

"Yah you two, have fun with that."

\-----------

I woke up the next morning with the fucking sweats. Apparently, in the night, my bedroom had been relocated to the Sahara desert. Or maybe the seventh layer of hell? Texas? Seriously, had one of my brothers decide to try and murder me in my sleep from induced heat stroke? Did our air conditioning break? What in holy hell...

...My musings were cut short suddenly when my comforter moved. Moved. On its own. Comforters, much like suitcases, do not start moving of their own accord out of the blue. I turned my head trying find the source of movement and the heat that was pressed up against my back and sure enough, there, cuddled up right next to my shoulder blade, was a fat ball of white fur. I groaned and rolled over, away from the fuzzy inferno, but it merely shuffled over on the bed and curled up, once again, next to me. I moved again; so did the ball of heat. Dammit. This little charade lasted for several minutes until I had finally been forced off my own bed by the damn little devil, and crawled reluctantly on all fours onto the floor.

I looked down at my vacated bed groggily as I scratched the back of my head and pushed my hair out of my face. I was not amused. At all. That little fucker had commanderd my damn sanctuary. My glorious combination of soft sheets, warm blankets and fuckawesome pillows that were molded perfectly to my large head.

"Get down," I said, in my scratchy morning voice.

The piss bag just rolled over onto its back. Its tongue folded out of its slobbery mouth lazily and hung down dangerously towards my soft sheets. I could see the drool starting to pool. I made a mental note to do a load of laundry the second I got home from school, my sheets being first priority.

"Get. Down. Now." I said more firmly.

It didn't move.

I growled heavily and shoved off the floor, stalked over to my bedroom door and wrenched it open.

"BURGER!"

Somewhere, within the deep confines and recesses of my house, I heard his throaty laughter. I groaned and walked away from the now snoring fur ball back inside my room, towards the kitchen. If he was going to torture me with this thing, he better have at least made me a damn good breakfast to compensate.

\----------

The parking lot of the school was mercifully empty when I arrived, twenty minutes earlier than usual. I had no need for my alarm clock this morning, since our new little pet had done a fine job of waking me up an hour earlier than I was used to. I was trying not to be bitter about that.

The old Nova was there though, and so was Sookie's blonde ponytail in the front seat. Without thinking I pulled in next to her and cut the engine. Her eyes were closed and she was, once again, listening to music, bobbing her head to the beat. The déjà vu was freakin' palpable. This time however, her car door was unlocked, and I went to pull open the door and sit in next to her, her posture didn't stiffen. She did hold her breath though, which I found odd. I arched an eyebrow, waiting for her to release it. She didn't.

"Sookie?" I asked, slightly concerned, and a wave of minty breath exhaled from her mouth the second I spoke. She bowed her head and started to breathe normally, but still didn't open her eyes. Was she meditating? Her arm was resting on the console in between us, and I focused on her soft skin, watching as goosebumps, once again, spread out across it. It wasn't cold in the car, and her odd behavior was beginning to worry me, but then she finally spoke...

"I owe you an apology," was all she said. Her head was still bowed, her eyes still closed. Had I suddenly been transported into a David Lynch film? This was too weird. Sookie was apologizing?

"You do?" I asked, not knowing what else to say.

"Yes. I've been... unfair to you."

"Sookie, I'm a big boy, it's okay," I said, and I almost put my hand on her arm, but she removed it suddenly from the console and I frowned, disappointed at her moving father away from me.

"No, Eric, its not okay to act like a bitch for no good reason," she sighed, and at that, she finally opened her eyes and looked directly at me to drive the point home. I didn't answer; I didn't even bother speaking - I just focused on the sea of blue that was now in front of me. I was momentarily lost in it.

"Eric?"

"Hmm?"

"We're going to be late for homeroom," she said, and my head snapped back to the present. I stared down at the clock on her dashboard and realized how much time had passed since I had gotten in her car. My sense of bewilderment must have been mirrored on my face, because the sound of the sweetest, softest laughter trickled out into the quiet air of the car from my left. Sookie was laughing. I'd never heard her laugh like that before. In fact, I don't think I had ever heard her laugh at all.

I looked over at her, stunned, with a kooky half smile on my face, which, sadly, halted her laughter and made her stare at me like a deer in headlights. It had broken the tension in the car, and I saw her hand reach for the door handle. I took that as my cue and reluctantly, got out of the car. So did she, and we stared at each other from across the roof. Neither of us seemed to know what do, but there was no way I was going to make the first move; this was Sookie's territory.

"Sookie!" Someone shouted from across the parking lot, and her hold on my gaze faltered. She turned to see who it was, and I sighed heavily, becoming utterly confused with this strange, tension filled game of locked eyes and apologies. I didn't want it to end, but at the same time, we'd never even make it to the front doors if we kept on with this odd truce we seemed to have come to. I turned away from the old Nova as Sookie's attention was being reluctantly absorbed by some fellow classmate, and started to head up towards the school, only looking back once to give Sookie a quick smile. Her cheeks visibly flushed instantly, and I felt my chest swell with triumph.

Eric Northman's game was back on.


	11. Chapter 11

Sookie

If Monday was a bitch to get through because of how confused I was over Eric, Tuesday was just full out torture.

First off, that morning in the parking lot, he had simply just gotten into my car, without even knocking! Granted, I did purposefully leave the door unlocked. It wasn't exactly solely meant for Eric; I mean, Amelia always liked to listen to music with me, so I could have left it unlocked for her, but who was I kidding? I left the door unlocked with the intention of testing him. I wanted to see if he would actually be brazen enough to let himself in. I also wanted to see if he would come back in the first place. My insecurities made me wonder if he was going to even bother trying to reach out to me again, since I had been so unforgivably distant... but he did. He got back in my car, without asking and without hesitation. I was so relieved that I almost forgot to not panic from feeling the strange mixture of calm and electricity wash over me, when he settled in next to me.

In fact, I didn't even breathe. Which I'm pretty sure Eric noticed. While I tried to stay as calm as possible, I felt his posture go slightly rigid next to me. I knew he was wondering about my odd behavior; I could practically feel the heat from his gaze on me, but only when I heard him say my name did my strength of closing myself off give out.

That, and my oxygen supply. I exhaled in one long rush of air and felt the wall I had built up crumble down around me, landing in a pile at my feet.

I felt slightly high from having held my breath for so long, but my head spun even more when I inhaled the warm scent of Eric next to me. My body reacted instantaneously as goosebumps spread out across my skin. I almost shivered from the sensation. Before Eric could speak again and distract me, I gathered my nerves and apologized. I knew I had been unjustly rude to him for... well, for way too long. Five years actually. I didn't want to be the bitch anymore, and I needed him to know I was sorry. Eric, after a brief moment of confusion that I really couldn't blame him for, was extremely understanding - I couldn't decide if it was more endearing or annoying.

I could feel that he wanted to touch me, but I removed my arm from the center console where it had rested. I couldn't take the feeling of his hands on me again; it was too soothing. Feeling his need to be closer to me was my cue to get out of the car, because if I stayed with him in that small space, I didn't know what would happen. Something probably confusing, and the last thing we needed was more confusion.

Eric followed me out of the car and we locked eyes from across the roof. We had to stop doing that, seriously. How is it that I could barely communicate with the man, but we could lock gazes and have this palpable energy flowing back and forth between us constantly? It just added to the confusion, and that fuzzy high feeling I always seemed to get when around him. It wasn't helping my nervous nature, which I found annoyingly ironic. Only my neurotic ass self would get nervous from feeling too calm.

Maybe I should go talk to Terry's therapist?

Someone called to me from across the parking lot and I blinked, breaking the connection and ending the contented silence we had found together only minutes before. I turned away from him reluctantly, and walked away feeling more than a little torn.

I realized later, as Sam asked me a question about our Calculus homework, that I had only gotten through the very minor universal social practice of the pre school round up in the parking lots. Shit. The rest of the day loomed before me threateningly, much like the heavy black rain clouds that had been slowly descending over the town since dawn. I really didn't appreciate the weather throwing a drama tantrum during my own inner cluster-fuck of confused turmoil. It was way too Degrassi-esque for my liking.

It only escalated once the school day officially started. In Homeroom, I was so stressed from feeling Eric's eyes on me and not being able to turn around to meet his gaze, that I was practically scratching the formica off my desktop. By the time we got to first period, the big ass turtle of awkward that had been following me around just gave up, and retreated back into its shell to hide from the tension.

Bastard turtle.

I entered the English classroom first, with Eric trailing somewhere behind me, and sat down in the front row of seats, as always. Eric walked in a few moments later to take his seat in the back row, as per usual, except this time he walked passed me, and I felt his hand ghost over my shoulder with the slightest of touches. I wasn't prepared for the casual gesture and practically rocketed out of my seat from the shock of it. Dammit.

No one had noticed Eric touch me, nor his slight chuckle at my reaction, but they did notice my random spasm. The questioning stares and concerned glances didn't do anything to help my jittery ass nerves. If Eric wanted me to continue to be amiable towards him, making a spectacle of me in class was not the way to go about it. I did realize that all he had done was gently brush past me, but still, I spazzed, people noticed, and that got my inner Hulk fuming.

I tried to figure out a way to get back at him in the hallways, but the only thing I could think of seemed more like an actual danger to the entire student body then just a little prank. Tripping a 6 foot something dude and sending him tumbling through a crowded hallway? The nurse would never forgive me.

The day ended on an interesting note, or text I should say, that occurred in Biology. Pam had somehow gotten my cell number, and it scared me slightly to think my information was so easily accessible, but then I remembered that the little slip of heart-doodled paper with Eric's cell number sat in my back pocket, burning a hole into my madras shorts. When I felt my phone vibrate in my purse, which was leaning against my leg on the floor, I jumped again - it just wasn't a good day for me and nerves. I retrieved it from my bag reluctantly, slightly miffed that Amelia insisted that I get my ass off the front porch and go find it in my backyard the other night. I had preferred staying out of touch with people. It was just easier.

When I checked the screen, I saw I had a new message from a number I didn't recognize. My first thought, or maybe hope, was that it was from Eric, but I knew his phone number started with an 8, not a 4, so with a hesitant sigh I opened up the message.

You've got balls, bitch. I'm impressed.

I stared down at the little words on my phone's screen, pondered the slightly condescending yet complimentary message for a few moments, wondering who would dare call me a 'bitch.' Even Amelia didn't do that. My eyes scanned the room absentmindedly while the teacher droned on about the effects of global warming - I would have paid attention if he hadn't lifted his entire lecture from Al Gore and therefore just repeated things I already knew - before landing on the hawk like intensity of Pam's gaze. Ohhh....

The realization switch then clicked on.

Feeling slightly uncomfortable at the amount of personal information Pam seemed to know about me and my family, I texted her back a quick, Thank you, not knowing what else to write, and wanting to keep things light hearted. I was also a little scared of giving her anymore ammo to work with, so I thought it best to keep the exchange brief.

You will eventually have to talk to him, you realize? She responded.

-I talked to him this morning.

I know.

-Then why ask?

Extra incentive never hurt anyone.

-You're kind of pushy.

And you're kind of stubborn.

-Well, at least we agree.

The bell rang, sounding the end of our exchange along with, most importantly, the school day. I got up from my desk, faster than normal, hoping to beat Pam out the door before she could once again grab my arm. No dice, though; two seconds out the door, I felt her slender arm slink through mine and she pulled me to her side, as if we were best buds wanting to chat up the day. I held in a grimace and tried to smile at her as she leered down at me.

God, was she ever not intimidating?

"So, progress has been made?" She asked.

"You seem extremely invested in Eric and I developing a friendship," I said while narrowing my eyes at her. What was her game?

"I merely want to see the people I care about happy."

"That's sweet Pam," I said, and for once gave her a genuine smile.

We were about to have one of those 'bonding moments,' at least I think we were, but alas, we were interrupted by Sam, who came jogging up behind us and put his hand on my shoulder to get my attention. To my surprise, I didn't jump from his touch as I had from Eric's. Sam's hand simply felt warm on my shoulder, nothing more, and I shrugged it off, not liking its clammy feel, while turning around to face him.

"Sooks, sorry to bother but I just had another question about..."

Pam cut him off. "Little boy, don't you see that we were having a conversation here?" She asked, staring her nose down at Sam, who was several inches shorter than she was. I didn't know what to say, so I stayed quiet while Sam looked back and forth between me and Pam, slightly confused.

"I didn't mean to interrupt," he forced out, sounding extremely nervous.

"Well, as long as you didn't mean it, that's fine then."Pam's voice dripped with sarcasm.

"I guess I could ask you tomorrow," Sam said, but it sounded more like a question.

Even though he'd been looking at me, Pam answered, "That would be lovely. Now, go play with your stick," she said, dismissing him. I gave her a stern look; she didn't need to be that rude.

"It's called a javelin, Pam."

"Whatever," she said, turning us back around and continuing our walk down the hall. I mouthed, "sorry" to Sam over my shoulder, but really, I was relieved. I liked Sam a whole lot, but he didn't seem to understand boundaries. I knew that he was very touchy-feely, but still, sometimes it wasn't always welcome. A part of me wondered why I didn't mind Eric touching me - I had only been surprised by it, not annoyed - and why with Sam's touch I was just uncomfortable. A little voice in the back of my head screamed, because you have feelings for Eric, you nitwad! Get used to it!

Get used to it, I repeated in my head, willing myself to try. Pam was giving me a knowing look and I smiled nervously back at her. By the time we reached the parking lot my nerves had risen to the breaking point. Eric's car was parked next to mine, and he was leaning his long body against it with a leisurely smile on his face. He wasn't looking our way, but instead, at his shoes. He clearly wasn't pondering his footwear, but whatever he was thinking on was making him smirk, and that was making me jumpy, because for some reason, I think I knew what it was.

\-----

Eric

She blushed.

Her skin turned a gloriously bright shade of crimson at my smile. I had been the reason for it; I could make her blush. That was certainly a boost to my, as of late, sadly unboostified ego. If it wouldn't have given some people a serious number of questions regarding my sexuality, I'm pretty sure I would have started to sing, Oh, what a beautiful mornin'! Oh what a beautiful day... right there in the parking lot. (Burger's favorite films are still the musical classics of the 50's.) However, I held back, respectfully.

This meant something I hadn't realized before. Sookie not only apologized to me, she was affected by me. I had gotten glimpses of her reactions when we were around each other: the goosebumps, the strange energy we seemed to create when focused on one another, but she always pulled away. I had thought she was uncomfortable with me, and maybe put off by my personality, but I was wrong; she blushed. She was just nervous around me.

Sookie Stackhouse liked me.

This new and fan-fucking-tastic revelation made me too giddy for my own good. First off, men should never describe themselves as 'giddy,' period, and second, I had an entire day of school to deal with - walking around with an unexplainable perma-grin was not going to fly. Nor was the unfortunate side effect of my ego boost... a classic, teenage hormonal peen salute. My kompis seemed to have smoked a bowl without sharing, since it was getting higher by the minute. I had to get that shit back in order, stat. Entering homeroom while pitching a tent is not looked upon kindly. After all, this was high school, not day camp.

I hid in the little boys' room for a few minutes, once again, willing a Sookie induced hard-on down, something that should be considered a serious offense and detriment to my sanity. Seriously, the number of hard-ons I was waving goodbye to as opposed to pumping off on account of this girl was getting out of hand. Literally, Out. Of. Hand. As in, not in my hand, out of it, and that made me sad for the poor thing. It probably felt all kinds of unwanted and unloved. I promised my hand and kompis a make-up session after school to keep it happy and my soldiers from turning blue.

I didn't mind waiting throughout the day, though, as long as I could keep an eye on Sookie and her hilarious new behavior around me. Her nerves in Homeroom were palpable; I could see her practically clawing at her desk, while she kept her legs crossed tightly to keep from bouncing them up and down. I didn't mean to stare so blatantly at her, but her school-girl-crush nerves were just so entertaining. As much as I enjoyed seeing her squirm, there was a part of me that wanted to soothe her again - take her into my arms and help her to calm down. I smiled to myself as the bell rang, and I lifted my legs off the desk in front of me to stand up, because I thought for the first time that my want might actually turn into a possibility.

I hung back as Homeroom let out, waiting for Sookie to enter first period English before I did. I watched from the hallway as she took her seat in the first row of desks, and a devious little idea formed in my head. I usually walked down the side of the room on my way to my desk in the back row, but I had a sudden urge to try something when I saw Sookie sit down - a little experiment to test the boundaries of how I could affect her.

I entered the room and took a new route to my seat, one that led right past her desk. As I passed her, I let my hand graze her shoulder ever so slightly, feeling the heat of her skin. When she practically jumped out of her seat at my slight touch, I almost burst out laughing from satisfaction. I managed to hold it in, letting only a mere chuckle escape me - which I'm sure Sookie heard, since she practically growled at me. I played it off and just kept on walking as if nothing had happened. I could feel her eyes following me, but by the time I sat down and looked back in her direction, she had turned forward again. It was for the best, really - Sookie was adorable when she was furious, and seeing the expression on her face would no doubt just make it harder for me to hold in my laughter. I didn't want her regretting her earlier apology and plotting revenge; this wasn't the time to fuck with progress.

I held back for the rest of the day. I knew when not to be a cocky asswipe. A little fun was all I wanted, not for her to regress back into her former ire that she once pointed so directly at me. I didn't dare try to have another interaction with her until after the final school bell rang. I walked to my car, feeling high from my newfound knowledge. Sookie liked me. I couldn't stop repeating that thought to myself; it had kept me in a good mood all day.

I leaned up against my car once I'd reached the parking lot, and focused on my shoes, willing myself not to look over at the doors of the science building.

Sookie liked me. That thought never got old. Sookie would also have to walk right past me in order to get to her car door; I'd planned it that way. I had heard her approaching before I saw her, but kept my eyes down, even though my left eyebrow seemed to have other plans. It kept on rising higher every second she got closer, as if willing my gaze up to see her. I couldn't keep it down. Apparently, certain parts of my anatomy just didn't want to listen to me when it came to Sookie.

"Eric?"

"Mmm?" I answered, finally looking up at her with a grin.

A deliciously awkward moment followed. Sookie's next words caught in her throat as her face flushed that beautiful shade of crimson once more, and as opposed to asking, she instead gestured with her hands for me to please move. I was, after all, blocking the way to the driver's side door. On purpose, of course. I did as she asked and she nodded her head, giving me a sheepish little smile as a thank you.

I almost giggled, seriously giggled, as she turned on the car and tried to back out the space without looking at me. I didn't try to taunt her anymore as she pulled out. In fact, I got out of her way and tried to make myself scarce by slinking into my own car, and hiding myself from her line of sight. I didn't feeling like taunting anymore. I didn't want to test or tease. All I really wanted now was a chance with her. Her blush gave me the confidence to accept that fact.

I had always wondered about her, throughout the time I lived here. Wondering what kept her so distant, wanting to see her open up. Wanting to talk to her, and more recently, wanting make her smile, protect her from the things that seemed to plague her, and take her pain away. But, she was always so negative and self righteous whenever I was around her. She even kept her friends at a distance.

Her stubborn nature kept me intrigued, and wanting to know more. It was as if she wasn't really a teenager, but already an adult. She had "grown up" by the time the rest of us were hitting puberty. No thirteen year-old should be that controlled, that put together, at least on the outside. Sookie was a stubborn ass bitch of an enigma, and I had always wanted to know why that was. That might have been the main reason for my attraction, but until this morning, I hadn't realized that what I really wanted... was her.

She had been driving me crazy with her mood swings, her loud stereo, and fucking Axl Rose, and I had liked it. I had wanted the sexual tension and the messed up little games to continue as long as she'd let me play along, but now it wasn't enough; I wanted more.

Ugh, I really had to tone down the pansy ass pontificating. I was starting to sound like that singing mermaid.

After riding my thought process of the redheaded sea creature, I decided that the next day would be another little test. I'd go to the inlet in the morning and see if she'd show. I didn't have a plan for if she didn't; I supposed I would deal with it if that time came, but as I went to bed that night - on freshly cleaned sheets and with the fuzzy inferno locked outside my door - I dared to hope that she'd be there. I was even hoping that she'd blast her music as she drove up. Hearing be damned, sometimes music was meant to be loud.

\---------

I had a bit of déjà vu the next morning when I was once again pelted to consciousness with a cake of Mr. Zog's Sex Wax by my brother and professional douchewad, Burger.

"The fuck?" I rasped out while rubbing my right shoulder where the cake of wax had hit.

"You wanted to get up early," he said with a shrug, as if being pelted with sex wax was the preferred way for every human being to wake up in the mornings. Of course.

"Only cause my alarm has been mysteriously chewed up to within an inch of its life. What, a simple shaking of the arm went out of style or something?" I asked, slightly miffed.

"No, I just like chucking things is all. That, and I had just stepped on a pile of shit outside your door before opening it, so I was a little peeved."

I had to laugh. Karma's a bitch, ain't it Burger?

"I wouldn't laugh, you're cleaning it," Burger said while crossing his arms that happened to be filled with supplies. If he were bald, he'd look like Mr. Clean.

"The hell I am. Besides, I gotta get outta here. I got a thing."

I jumped out of bed, threw on a pair of jeans and a clean t-shirt, pretending that my hands had suddenly lost their use of opposable thumbs, and therefore, their ability to hold on to things, before Burger could shove paper towels and a trash bag into them.

"A thing?"

"Yup," I answered, while crawling around on the floor looking for my favorite pair of Jesus sandals.

"Does the thing have anything to do with the chick you called back in Cali?"

"Maybe. Hey, bitch, where'd my Jesus-flops go?"

"You mean those ugly brown things the pup's been chewing on all morning?" Burger asked with feigned innocence. I wanted to kill him.

"Dra! Where's the bastard!?" I shoved off the floor and ran down the stairs, narrowly avoiding the shit by the threshold of my door.

Sure enough, by the foot of the stairs was the little bastard ball of heat, chewing away on my favorite shoes.

"Not cool little man," I said while grabbing them out of his mouth. He growled at me but I just ignored his attempts to yip at my hand. "These," I pointed to the shoes, "are off limits." The little dog just cocked its head at me and I stalked off. Someone was gonna have to train that bitch and it certainly wasn't going to be me.

I managed to get out of the house ten minutes later, after realizing that smelling like dog shit - I had helped Burger clean the mess up after all - probably wasn't the best impression to make on Sookie. I had taken the fastest fucking shower in the history of the Northman name, and grabbed a single pancake out of the pan before practically jumping off the upstairs deck to get to my car. I couldn't get to the inlet fast enough.

I kept my windows down and the stereo off as I drove over to the old parking lot at the inlet. The morning chill was a bit brisk, but I wanted to be able to hear Sookie's music if she happened to be blasting it at this ungodly hour. That and, my hair was wet; driving around fast with my windows down was my version of a blow dry.

When I pulled into the lot, though, I almost had a self induced aneurysm from shock.

Sookie's Nova was sitting there, idling away all by its lonesome. She had beaten me. Dammit. I almost chastised myself for, once again, making her wait, but instead of wasting anymore time being a nitwad, I pulled up next to her car, cut the engine, and got out, just like the day before.

Unlike the day before, however, when I sat down next to her in the Nova, she barely let me shut the door before saying, "get out."

I froze.

Shit, what happened?

"Sookie?" I began to ask, but I cut myself off when I saw the stern look on her face turn to a smile. A smile? My god, this girl was confusing.

"I've always wanted to know what the stereo sounds like in the Impala," she said with a cute little smirk, before pulling the keys out of the ignition of the Nova and exiting the old car. I sat there, in her passenger seat, practically floored. Well, she certainly wasn't boring to be around, I thought.

Sookie knocked on the passenger-side window and said, "come on," to me through the glass. I couldn't ignore an invitation like that, so I popped open the door, and followed her to my baby.


	12. Chapter 12

Eric

It had been a full week. Seven painfully tortuous and agonizing days of blah!

A week filled with civil conversation, sideways glances, polite gestures and utter and complete frustration. Every day was the same; in the mornings we'd meet at the inlet. Silent, but waiting. I'd pause to see if she'd climb out of her car before I'd leave mine, but she never wanted to sit in the Impala again after that first day. I pondered the reasons behind it, but never actually asked her; I just shook it off, happy to be in her presence, period.

We'd sit in her old Nova and talk, or not. If she needed to vent, she would, and if I needed to get some things off my chest, I was free to. It was smooth, easy and simple. When it came time to leave for school, I'd give her a weak smile and exit, hoping to keep the bastard turtle of awkward at bay. I wanted so much to feel her skin again, to touch her, to experience that shock — to reconnect the chemistry between us.

Both of us felt it. It was in the air. It was fucking palpable: the ringing of a vibration too high for us to hear, but something we were both mentally aware of. Like sonar, ricocheting back and forth between us at a heightened frequency. We were a couple of bats, willingly blinded by our previous perceptions of the other.

I was sick of it. I wanted it to end.

Being in class with her was the worst. It was so... strained. The air even felt tight. I wanted to be closer to her than I was. I cursed my idiotic tendency to always sit in the back of the class, never venturing forward. I could see her tension as well. All of Homeroom and first period, her shoulders would be set, high up and her head bowed, as if she were hiding. I knew she felt my eyes on her, and I felt like a damn creep making her uncomfortable, but in truth, I couldn't help it.

Something had most definitely shifted in our relationship. Well, shifted wasn't exactly the right word. It wasn't really a shift, more like a damn earthquake. Even my boots were shaking. Then again, that was probably just my douchebag nerves making themselves known. I had never fidgeted so much in my fucking life! She was driving me insane with her quiet kindness. I had never hoped for the Bitch more; I almost found myself missing her.

Almost.

My stalker-like tendencies continued throughout the week, even at lunch. Sookie had taken to buying her lunch from the cafeteria kitchens, and I, in turn, also miraculously developed a taste for the — not surprisingly disgusting — tuna noodle casserole and spam gumbo surprise. It was only another excuse to be close to her, to try and breech the distance between us that she made sure to keep throughout the school days. The distance that I cursed at every time she'd smile and slink subtly away from me in the hallways.

As I stood there, with my pride momentarily on hold and my balls off somewhere in a McDonald's playland, I noticed some creeper of a pimpled freshman ogling Sookie in the lunch line. I was standing two people behind him, three behind Sookie, like a damned personal guard dog, seething at his brazen vulgarity. He was whispering to his equally pathetic and pimpled friend about her ass. I didn't hear the exact conversation but I caught the words "fine," "firm," and, "I'd tap that."

Oh no you most certainly will not, you little prick.

Never anger a six foot something man in the middle of a crowd. Reason? He'll use his body as a weapon.

The next moment, I pretended to trip on the none existent shoelace of my Jesus sandal, and sent my tray of some unrecognizable food product and myself flying, while simultaneously screaming, "shit!" for added dramatic effect.

Thank god Sookie had good reflexes and jumped out of the line the second my voice pierced the air, because my fall created a domino affect with the rest of the underclassmen, hot lunch enthusiasts. Bodies went tumbling as I tried to strategically land my weight on the pimpled freshmen ahead of me. The fact that my tray may have hit one of them in the head rather hard, causing his glasses to collide with the yellowed tile floor, and break unexpectedly, was not my intention, merely a happy side effect.

The freak-show escapees that were masquerading as lunch ladies were naturally unfazed by the commotion. The other students could be heard oohing and ahhing throughout the room as I picked up my head and threw my blond hair out of my face, trying to make sure Sookie hadn't been hurt. When I found her in the crowd, she had her arms crossed and looked thankfully unharmed. Her eyes were bright with mischief, and she smiled down at me like a cat eyeing a canary. Good thing my body was pressed into the floor, because I seriously got hard just from that single look.

Suddenly my brilliant plan to defend her honor backfired on me, because there was no way I was getting up from the floor until my body calmed down. I'd have to feign a bum knee or something.

When the aids in the room started gathering the students and helping them up one-by-one, she mouthed "thank you" to me before being ushered away from the carnage and darting out of sight — once again leaving me feeling fuckall confused and frustrated.

I quelled my hormone-fueled anger by finding solace in the fact that her eyes had been heated when she looked at me. She had liked my little stunt.

Sookie

I had to get out of that cafeteria before I jumped on the man and gave those freak lunch ladies something to talk about. God, he was so adorable with his mussed hair all in his face, and his leather jacket coiled up by his shoulders from the momentum of his fall. The back of his shirt had ridden up too, exposing his lower back and deviously low slung jeans, which revealed BjörnBorg boxer-briefs. Well, you could take the boy outta Sweden....

I shook my head to take my eyes off of his ass before he noticed me ogling him. Oh shit, I had been ogling him, hadn't I? Dammit!

I had been so careful all week; why did my composure decide to slip now?

I was so confused about my odd reactions to his presence, and my new and annoyingly obvious attraction, that I decided keeping him at an arms length was the best strategy for the time being. Clearly that wasn't going to work if he was going to be all cute, and go hurdling himself on some silly freshman for wanting to "tap my ass." I could most certainly take care of myself, but his intention was appreciated.

When his head shot up and his eyes started darting around the room, no doubt looking for me, my heart rate accelerated for some unknown reason. (Well, I knew the reason, but I was still in denial. Sue me.) He seemed concerned, but at the same time... predatory? Why was that so alluring? Ugh, I needed to leave. Fast.

His eyes found mine, and I smiled at him, my body obviously deciding to go all Benedict Arnold on me and not follow the instructions my brain was sending out. Don't smile... don't encourage... stop staring at his ass... stop... smiling...

So, naturally, I mouthed "thank you," as if he had just saved me from the apocalypse or some such catastrophe, before finally getting my legs to move and booking it out of the cafeteria. I had started to wonder what his backside looked like without BjörnBorg stamped all over it, and that was most definitely not going along with my recently adopted plan of figuring out my laundry list of convoluted hang-ups before allowing myself to get close to anyone. Especially Eric.

I had only set my mind to this venture after having sat in his car with him the previous week while listening to music — the first and last time I ever allowed myself to set foot into the Impala. I could chalk my first time up to curiosity. I didn't have a good excuse for another visit.

Being in that car as the heat blasted from the dashboard, intensifying the scent of him, made my knees weak while sitting down. His warmth and soothing nature was damn near intoxicating. Why did the realization of my attraction to him have to hit me over the head like a wrecking ball? It wasn't fair. And him! All cool and collected, lounging back in his seat, stretching his long, lean body over the leather of the Impala while bobbing his blond head absentmindedly along to the music, looking like a damn Calvin Klein ad, was not helping. Why the hell was he so calm? Why was I so calm? Oh, right, Eric. The bastard wasn't only sweet and patient; he for some reason put my nerves at ease.

It was ironically unnerving.

I was still operating in full-out denial mode, but there was no fighting the fact that my body wanted to jump his bones. Even my stubborn ass brain couldn't deny that. However, if and when I ever allowed myself to open up to him — pun not intended — I had no wish for it to be merely physical. I wanted more than that, but I was too chicken-shit to even think about what his feelings were regarding me.

Yet another pathetic reason I gave myself to hold back.

Walking into my house latter that day, after Eric's little cafeteria stunt, I was greeted immediately with the screech of the house phone blaring off its ringer. Normally I kept the volume on low, but while I was out at school, I turned it to high, so Gran could hear.

As I ran toward the repulsive sound, cursing at whoever developed the composition of our shrill phone ring, I once again mused over how much I hated the damn telephone. It only brought bad news and headaches.

Sure enough, the second I picked up, both symptoms hit me simultaneously. Immediate headache and an utter sense of foreboding washed over me. This was not going to be good. My damn brother was breathing heavily on the other end, no doubt stricken with a cold. That was probably the only positive thing I'd get out of this exchange, so I savored the sound of his abhorrent sniffling greedily.

"Jason, how good of you to grace us with a phone call," I trilled, sounding eerily like Pam.

"Sis, how'd you know it was me?"

"Your sniffles, even when you're sick, sound like you."

"Huh."

His response hung in the air, and I tapped my foot, wondering what the hell he'd want. If he wasn't calling to say I'm sorry and guess what, I'm coming home for Christmas and bringing Santa and fucking Rudolph with me, I was going to turn rabid on the spot, like one of those batshit zombies from 28 Days Later.

"Uh... well, I guess I'll just come right on out and say it, then." He paused, and I officially saw red. Cillian, here I come.

"Sophie-Anne would like to meet my family, and well... she's invited you and Gran out here for a luncheon."

I blinked a few times while my mouth hung open over the receiver. Had I just heard him right? I hoped to hell not.

"Jason Bartholomew Stackhouse, are you fucking serious!?" I boomed.

"Sookie! No cussing under my roof!" Gran warbled from another room.

"Sorry Gran!" I shouted. I then lowered my voice and stalked out onto the back porch, before getting back to the douche on the phone who was unfortunately related to me.

"Jason, Jesus fucking Christ on a cheese-whizzed cracker, you expect me and Gran to come out there and meet your damn — shit, I don't even know what to call her! — when you couldn't even come here to give Gran a kiss on the cheek after she almost... almost..." I couldn't finish the sentence. I shook my head and regrouped. "All she wanted was to see you, and you couldn't even give her the time of day!" My voice came out in a harsh, whispered rasp, and I hoped he heard the whole shebang, because there was no way I was going to repeat myself.

He hesitated for a moment before answering, "Yes..."

It came out sounding like a question.

"You're an idiot, you know that?"

"Yes, I do. Now, Sookie, please, she wants to meet you. Can you guys come out here?"

"There is no way I'm bringing Gran! She thinks you're in med school on a scholarship, and it's staying that way!"

"I am in school, and on a scholarship... sorta," he had the nerve to retort.

"Fucking a cougar and getting paid for it does not count."

I'd had enough of the conversation. Jason was living his life the way he wanted, and I didn't have to think about if I didn't want to. If he ever bothered to show up here again to give Gran a few more laughs with her only grandson, then I'd start giving a shit, but right now I just didn't want to even try and care.

"I'm hanging up Jason, the answer is no."

"Please Sookie! You don't have to bring Gran, Sophie would love to meet you regardless. She just wants to know about my family. She cares about me, Sooks."

"Oh, fuck that. The only thing she cares about is your stamina."

"I'll come home for Christmas if you come here for just a few hours to meet Sophie."

Oh, that was a low blow. Gran would undoubtedly love to have Jason around during the Holidays. She made soda bread and Christmas tree cookies for the neighbors. Knitted scarves and socks for us, hung mistletoe under each doorway, and had dried cranberries strung along the tree. Fuck, I couldn't deny her a Christmas with both her grandchildren. Especially after the year she'd had. I grunted into the phone and stomped my foot in defiance.

"You're a bastard Jason. Fine, I'll be there. You had better keep your promise, or so help me, I'll castrate you in your sleep and say Terry did it in a bout of insanity."

Jason gulped audibly and then said a quick goodbye after informing me that he'd be e-mailing the date, time, and dress code for the luncheon.

Dress code? He had better be kidding.

\------

The "luncheon," as Jason insisted on calling it, was apparently happening on Saturday. My bastard of a brother couldn't even send out invitations correctly. I had a day to wrap my head around the fact that I was going to meet my brother's.... whatever, because she suddenly had an urge to know about his family.

The worst of it was, I couldn't even drink heavily and make a fool out of myself and, by extension, Jason, because I had to drive both there and back in one day. Dammit. Nothing positive could come of this meeting. Nothing. I was sure of it.

In brief: the day was one big mindfuck. I arrived and shook hands with a strawberry blonde woman in her mid 40s who could have been considered elegant had she not been wearing a leopard print romper and stilettos while holding a martini glass as she introduced herself to me. It was like meeting Mrs. Robinson in the flesh. She kissed my cheek and smeared lipstick over my face with her French manicured hand, as I inwardly cringed while putting on a tight smile and tried not to regurgitate my breakfast.

And they're off! The races had started.

Her house, or estate rather, was huge and garish. I'm pretty sure even Liberace would have stepped back and said "too much" at the hordes of pink marble, crystal chandeliers, and cherubs that were peppered around the property in abundance.

After introductions, and me turning down perfectly good alcohol, we sat out on a veranda by the pool, and were served antipasti by waiters wearing actually white gloves. The kicker: they were leather.

I swallowed hard and tried to focus my attention on a side plate of fresh basil as Sophie-Anne — or Aunt Sophie, as she liked to called — prattled on about things I tried my darndest not to pay attention to. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see her foot rubbing up and down along the inside of my brother's leg, and I once again forced myself to keep my breakfast down.

My brother stayed quiet and laughed at Aunt Sophie's jokes, and scoffed at her ridiculous political comments as if he were trained to. The few hours he promised turned into a full day of events that I don't even want to try to remember. There was ping-pong, croquet, a walk through her private golf course, and even a brisk set of tennis that I refused to partake in. I deduced that any sport with a tiny ball for her to wrap her hand around seemed to stimulate her.

And each time we moved on to a new one I wanted to bolt out of the grounds as if I were the Road Runner hopped up on crack. When the sun started to sink below the horizon, I had to throw in the towel. I was disgusted, tired, and starved, since I had tried to eat as little as possible in the hopes that I wouldn't have to revisit my food again with all of the vomit-worthy rarities I had been witness to during the day.

I was so worked up to get out of there I think I actually curtsied to Sophie before whispering threateningly into Jason's ear that he'd better show up for Christmas or a new career of singing as a soprano was in his near future. I had done my good deed for the fucking year in my mind, and got in my car wanting nothing more than to get to my bed and sleep the day off, as if it were a bad dream, or acid trip.

As luck would have it, on the way home, I got lost on the strange tangle of backstreets and culs-de-sac that made up the geography of Sophie-Anne's hood. By the time I had started to recognize my surroundings I had been driving for hours, had stopped for gas twice, and I was utterly exhausted. I was nearing the home stretch, though; I could feel it. I was almost there. Almost home, almost to my bed. My warm, comfortable, welcoming bed made up of soft Egyptian cotton sheets and fluffy down pillows. I sighed at the thought; they were practically calling my name.

I had never felt so tired from driving before, and the yellow lines along the black road, with their monotonous rhythm, were making me feel even more so from the hypnotizing repetition. When my lids started to flutter, it felt perfectly natural. Right. As if I were already asleep, and the fact that I was currently driving wasn't reality, but merely a dream. It was the bad dream I had hoped the day had been, now turning into welcoming darkness and peace. The only thing I could process was how content I felt to let my eyelids drop. I didn't feel the road, nor the drone of the car engine, nor the wheel beneath my hand, nothing. Just the ever luring need to sleep.

I let that soothing thought drift me into unconsciousness as my lids finally fell shut. Peaceful and calm. All anxiety gone, only darkness and relief remained.

Peace and darkness.

Darkness...

A loud blast of noise unexpectedly echoed through my resting brain. My eyes reluctantly shot open, and I saw the fast approaching outline of a telephone pole in front of me. I was jerked back to reality and turned the wheel sharply to avoid the oncoming crash; the second I knew I wasn't going to hit anything, I stomped on the brakes.

Holy shit.

My heart was pounding, and my chest was heaving. I couldn't get the oxygen into my lungs fast enough. I stared at my whitened knuckles on the steering wheel, with sheer and utter panic setting into my head. I could have crashed. I could have hurt someone.

I could have died.

The bitter taste I assumed to be adrenaline appeared at the back of my throat, and I swallowed it down along with the bile I knew was soon to follow. Tears prickled at the corners of my eyes and I shook my head, willing them away. All I could even attempt to focus on was the little engraved 'Nova' on the steering wheel.

What happened, I thought.

A knock sounded to my left, and I jumped and screamed all at once. If my heart wasn't already about to explode, that sent it into overdrive. When I could focus, I realized the last person I wanted to see — and maybe the only person I could stand seeing in a situation like this — was on the other side of the glass.

Eric.

I was shaking at that point and couldn't even control my hand enough to roll down the window. I managed to unlock the door and let him do the rest. He opened it up, and a blast of chilly salt air hit me. There was a cold front coming in off the water. It only made my shakes more severe.

Eric didn't say anything. He didn't even look at me. He simply reached in, unbuckled my seatbelt, and pulled me out of the car. Before I knew it, I was crushed to his chest as his arms wrapped around me in an all-encompassing embrace. The wind lashed around us, but all I could feel was him and his warmth, there for me and protecting me. I realized then that what Eric meant to me was: comfort. Constant, perfect and steady, and just... there.

His heart was beating almost as fast as mine, and I wondered distractedly at what had worried him so. It was then that I remembered what had almost happened, and reality came crashing back into focus with a painful stab of shocking clarity.

I retched in his arms and fell sideways out of his embrace as my body convulsed from the realization that I could have very well died if Eric hadn't sounded his car horn. I wanted to ask him how and why he happened to be here, but all I could do was dry heave. There was hardly anything in my stomach to throw up, so I just coughed and wheezed in pathetic, raged gasps as I willed my body to still.

Eric leaned down over me and rubbed his hand soothingly along my back. I felt like batting it away, but didn't have the strength, so I allowed myself to succumb to his calming presence. After a few moments, I felt him gently tug on my elbow and once again wrap me in his arms. His jacket soon followed, and I felt myself being led away from my old Nova.

"I'll be right back," he said as he settled me into the front seat of his car before jogging back to mine and pulling it off to the side of road. I noticed that his voice sounded strained, but was too shaken to process the reason behind it.

In a flash he was back in the car, and I was once again pulled to his side. His hands soothingly ran through my hair and I could distinctly feel his lips being pressed onto my scalp in soft, warm kisses. There were parts of my brain that rebelled against that action, but I decided then and there to put them on permanent hold and slumped further into his chest, thanking whoever restored his car for making his front seat one big, continuous leather couch. Before I knew it, my hand was resting contentedly on his chest, and I was once again being lulled to sleep. Except this time, it was to the sounds of Eric's soft humming and the simultaneous vibrations it caused in his body that brought me my peace. I fell into the darkness willingly, knowing Eric was holding me, and that my worries, for now, were over.

\-------

Eric

I'd had another dream, and it scared the living shit out of me. The word "nightmare" never seemed more appropriate than it did in that moment.

Sookie was once again the main cast member, but the situation was vastly different from my normal Sookie dream routine. Not since the day at the jetty had I had a foreboding dream regarding Sookie. That day, I had woken up worrying she might do something drastic along the rocks, only to find that she was in fact feeling alone and saddened by her Gran's condition. After seeing her in the flesh, I knew she wasn't going to harm herself, but I felt utter relief at the fact that I was the person she chose to talk to that day. I had found her exactly where my dream had pointed her out to be, so I felt no hesitation in throwing myself out of my bed and out the door the second I'd reached full consciousness and my vision was back into focus after having this current dream.

I had fallen asleep while studying for a test on my bed. The damn fuzzy inferno was having a rare day of behaving himself, and Burger had made Southern fried chicken and biscuits for dinner. All in all, it was a damn good day. Until, of course, I feel asleep and was greeted with the horrifying images of yellow-painted, twisted metal and smoke billowing in dark clouds around what was once Sookie's Nova. My brain was so shocked by the imagery, I had woken before figuring anything else.

I didn't know what had happened, but I knew that street, and I knew the house her car had been in front of. In the dream, the sky had been dark, and the new alarm clock taking up residence on my bedside table read nearly ten.

It was the last thing I looked at before running out the door.

\-----

That particular house, on that particular street, was located on the outskirts of town. I recognized it only because it was an old Victorian, and the only one that I knew of within driving distance. It was aged and painted in once vibrant but faded colors. There was an old, decaying telephone pole on the edge of its lawn, and as I drove faster and faster — hearing the protest of my car's engine as I went — I hoped that there was nothing wrapped around it when I got there.

Across the street was an old bed and breakfast whose parking lot looked over the road and offered a clear view of the house opposite the asphalt. At my speeds, it took me mere minutes to reach my destination, and I pulled in, cutting the engine a minute later. I felt crazy with anxiety and the scenario that filled my cloudy head. I had a desperate need for caffeine. Something, anything! What if I was wrong? What if the house wasn't the same as in my dream?

What if, what if, what if.... it's all my mind could process until I saw headlights cresting over the hill up ahead in the road. I watched in utter horror as the car swerved slightly down the narrow street, gaining speed as it descended the downward slop of the hill. The road was well lit, thanks to the overheads from the B and B's parking lot, and within seconds I was able to tell the make of the car, and the driver behind the wheel...

Sookie.

As she got closer, the scene became more and more disturbing, as if my dream were playing out in front of me verbatim. I was even at the right vantage point. It was uncanny, and frightening. When I saw her head loll forward I lost all semblance of composure, and momentarily wondered what the fuck had I been waiting for. I shouted out her name in a barbaric cry as I simultaneously blasted my horn for as long as and as loud as I could muster. My voice fell deaf inside the cab of my car, but the horn jostled her back to consciousness.

What happened next make my heart jump into my throat. Her head popped up and I could see the realization hit her eyes, and for a split second I thought that I had done wrong, that maybe I was supposed to wait a few moments longer so that her swerve wouldn't come into contact with the pole? Maybe I had just made things worse...

I shot out of my car, and darted towards her as fast as my legs could take me, while the sound of screeching tires filled the air like some sickening soundtrack in a horror film. She had slammed on the brakes a moment after cutting the wheel to the left and avoiding the collision, but the car was teetering on its axis dangerously. When she finally screeched to a stop in the middle of the road, I was at her door instantly. I needed to see her, feel her, make sure she was breathing and that her heart was still beating. Mine hadn't come down from its current location in my throat yet... I had been so petrified of losing her.

That thought alone made my stomach flip and my jaw clench. I had been petrified of losing Sookie. What did that signify? Did she really mean that much to me? Of course she did.

She had unlocked her door with unsteady hands, and after throwing it open and seeing her pale and shaking form, I didn't care about the questions anymore. I pulled her to me in an almost bruising embrace, never wanting to let her go.

I could feel her heart hammering in her chest, and wished for it to settle. It mirrored mine, but I wasn't concerned about anything but Sookie right then. She was violently shaking. I was rubbing my hands soothingly into her back and up and down her frail arms when she suddenly retched forward. I feared she might be going into shock and wanted to get her stationary as soon as possible. When her heaves had settled and her breathing had returned to a steady pace, I brought her over to my car, and gently placed her in the passenger seat.

"I'll be right back," I told her.

I didn't want to leave her, but her Nova was stuck out in the middle of the road at an awkward and unnatural angle. Headlights blazing and that damn door-ajar-ding repeatedly echoing through the foggy night air. That noise reminded me that this was real and not some bad dream. Sookie had almost crashed. Violently.

I shook my head fiercely, as if the action were to repel the image from my brain. Sookie hadn't crashed. She was fine. She was in the Impala, safe and fine. When I had wished earlier in the week to touch her and hold her again, feeling the electricity between us, this was not the situation I had envisioned. I felt like cursing someone, or something, for having put her in harm's way. And at the same time, I wanted to stock her fridge full of Red Bull to chug in pairs before she ever got behind the wheel of her car again.

I quickly moved the Nova to the side of the road, making sure to grab her purse before locking it up and practically sprinting back to Sookie in a flat out run. I pulled her to my side on the seat and held to her to me once more the moment I sat down again. Her heart was thankfully beating loud and clear for all to hear, erratic but present, and her breathing was becoming more regular as the minutes passed. I ran my hands through her hair and down her shoulders, which were covered in my leather jacket, wanting to make sure she was all there. As if she'd disappear if my hands left her. There was a sheen of sweat on her brow — from the shock of the night, no doubt — but otherwise she seemed unharmed.

After a few moments, her hands found their way to my body; one wrapped around my waist, and the other rested on my chest. Warm and gentle, right over where my heart banged against my ribcage.

I placed unrestrained kisses on the top of her head while brushing my cheek against her soft hair, reveling in the closeness of her. She slumped into my body further, unguarded and loose. Her shakes lessened, but our hold on each other seemed to tighten as her body returned to its normal state. When her breaths became long and steady, I knew she had fallen asleep, and I let my head fall back on the headrest, content with the knowledge that she was safe and in my arms.

The last thing I remembered before drifting off into a hazy, dreamless sleep was stealing one last kiss on the soft skin of her temple, and feeling her nuzzle closer to my side as a result. I smiled into the quiet air of the car and finally let my eyelids fall closed. Relieved, content, and happy.


	13. Chapter 13

Really, truly and honestly, I have no idea how we ended up horizontal on the front seat of the Impala, but no way was I going to complain about it.

We must have slumped down into a more comfortable position some time during the night. When my eyes creased open from a strange abundance of sunlight streaming into them through the windows, I smirked offhandedly at the new arrangement Sookie and I had found ourselves in, happy that she was still in my arms and, most importantly, safe.

My long body was taking up most of the space on the front seat, and my legs were draped over the dash at an awkward, but oddly comfortable angle. I never knew that I could be that content, smashed up in my car like I was, but I figured most of it probably had to do with the beautiful girl lying with me. Sookie was still thankfully sound asleep -- she obviously needed the rest. There's was no way was I going to disturb her. Her body was half curled into my side, and half resting on top of me with one of her legs thrown over my hips. I couldn't help but smile at how casual we seemed. Waking up to Sookie snuggled next to me was definitely a welcome sight. I shifted on the seat slightly to relieve a crick in my neck, but that minimal movement brought my attention to another part of my anatomy that was pressing obnoxiously into Sookie's thigh.

Shit.

That might be a problem, I thought, but as long as she was still comfortable, I wasn't going to make her aware of the fact that my body had reacted to having her so close to me for so long. I was a teenager, after all; I couldn't be held responsible for my all too eager hormones.

I felt, rather than heard, Sookie's breathing change after my slight movement, and I stilled immediately, hoping I hadn't disturbed her. I was both dreading and anticipating her reaction to our current situation when she finally woke. Whatever I'd been imagining in my head, what happened next was something I was most definitely not prepared for.

Sookie stretched out languidly like a cat alongside of me, a sight I drank in greedily; I couldn't help it. It was sensual and unguarded and fuck... she had inadvertently rubbed her thigh back and forth over my already obvious erection. I was so distracted by the torturously pleasurable friction her movements brought forth -- and at the same time wanted to tamp that shit down stat, because taking advantage of unconscious girls is just not my bag -- I didn't even notice her warm hand sliding up and curling around my neck until her fingers started to twirl into my hair as she shifted further up my body.

My mouth dropped open in quiet surprise from the wash of sensations flooding me as my hands immediately raised into the air in the symbolic sign of innocence and surrender. I didn't want to take any chances since my libido was already making itself painfully known. If she wanted to rub herself all over me, that was fine, but I wasn't going to reciprocate. She was obviously still asleep, because there was no way the Sookie I knew would be this uninhibited. Ever. I'd gladly lie there and be her personal cuddle toy, but that's all I'd do.

An inner debate raged in my mind as she snuggled closer to my chest, getting comfortable in her new position. I wanted to wake her to stop her from doing something she'd most likely regret, but at the same time, the hormonal teenager inside of me had been paralyzed by the pleasure she was unknowingly giving me.

Clearly, I had to wake her -- she'd kill me if I let this continue -- but then, her head nuzzled further into my neck as her hips performed a slow grind along my side, and she moaned. Fucking moaned! I could feel her hot breath wash across my skin, and I had to stifle a growl of satisfaction because... just... damn, woman. I mouthed "fuck" into the suddenly heated air of the car as my hormones went into overdrive.

This girl was going to be the death of me.

Literally, she was going to kill me if she woke up and realized what she had been doing. That thought posed another problem.

How to wake her and not embarrass her?

Shit. Fuck. Balls.

I started to ponder a plan of action when she moved against me again, her hips suddenly starting up a slow, circular rhythm along my side, her thigh moving unintentionally with her. I had picked my head up to watch her, shocked, but it soon fell back against the door of the car from the slight friction her jeans was causing against mine.

"Sookie," I breathed. I couldn't help it. It just came out of nowhere. I gulped and regrouped. First priority: make Sookie stop. Ideal outcome would be not to wake her in the process.

I decided that maybe a gentle movement would halt her current attack on me. Like when you nudge a snoring person and they stop. Not that I'd ever done that, either, but there's a first time for everything, right?

My hormones were screaming to let her continue, because she was obviously enjoying herself from the sexy little noises she was making as she moved, but really, this was wrong. She was practically purring against me, her body was radiating heat, and her breaths felt like sweet fire against my neck, but this wasn't the right time. Not with her still asleep. So, with my convictions reestablished, and my hormones plotting my demise, I slowly moved my hand down towards her knee. My goal was to push her thigh gently off my pelvis and the poor, unsatisfied, saluting soldier in my pants. Maybe then, her movements would slow, or at least she wouldn't be unintentionally jerking me off in the process. I did hope to progress our relationship to a new level after last night, but this wasn't how I'd planned it.

Hell, was anything ever easy with Sookie?

No, it wasn't, because the second my palm made contact with her knee, she moved into my touch, arching her back and gasping out my name in a breathy and sexy as hell voice. My fingers clenched around her leg automatically at the sound.

Talk about having a revelatory moment; she was dreaming about me.

Fine. Fucking fine. For the love of the Coen brothers, the creators of the Ever Holy Dude, I'm stopping this shit now.

I couldn't take that knowledge right then. Not with her all hot and bothered and on me. There is only so much a bastard like me can take before snapping.

"Sookie," I said into her hair, with a voice just above a whisper.

Her arms wrapped more tightly around me, and her knee hitched higher on my stomach. I let go of her leg, having forgotten that I still had a hold on it.

"Sookie, please..." I said a bit louder.

The girl had me begging. Jesus, if only she knew.

"Eric," she whimpered into my neck as her lips brushed my skin, and my jaw clenched. Sookie, please wake the fuck up. I can't take this anymore.

"I'm here," I soothed. "You gotta wake up for me Sookie."

I brushed a few wisps of hair off of her face and stole one last kiss on the top of her head before she woke, just in case I'd never get the chance to be with her like this again.

Finally she stirred, and I braced myself for the onslaught that would soon follow. I even closed my eyes, unwilling to witness the anger in hers after seeing and experiencing her so free and loose around me.

She stretched again, but this time the hand that had been twisted into my hair moved down to rub the sleep from her eyes. She was finally coming back to consciousness, though her hip movements continued slightly; she hadn't left her dream yet. When the reality of what she was doing finally hit her, she stiffened as if she'd been electrocuted. I'm surprised her hair didn't stand up on end.

I didn't know whether to be worried or relieved, so I watched in fascination limbo as her cheeks turned ten shades of pink, before her blond little head turned up to find me staring down at her. Her face paled then, and she sat bolt upright on the seat, losing her balance and falling backwards onto the dash after hitting her head on the low roof of the car.

Fuck, that went badly.

"Shit! Ow!" She arched her back away from the dials of my stereo, which had probably stabbed her painfully when she fell backwards onto them, while she rubbed her head with her hands. Her face was a mess of emotions, the most present being embarrassment. I didn't know what to do to console her. She shouldn't be embarrassed; she should be fucking proud of herself. The girl practically got me off with nothing more than her leg. Then again, this wasn't really the right time to compliment her on her sex kitten nature while unconscious.

I sat up, letting my instincts to care for her take over, and moved my hand to examine the fresh bump on her head. She flinched for a moment, but I simply held her gaze with my eyes, and her posture relaxed as she let me see if any real damage was done. Her legs were kind of haphazardly thrown over mine -- I'd since removed them from their perch on my steering wheel -- and I couldn't get a good look at her head from where she was leaning against the dash. I had gone into protective mode, frustrated that I couldn't assess if she was hurt or not. I pulled her hips to mine, not thinking of the sexual nature of the gesture, but genuinely wanting to get a better look at her head, and the bruises that would no doubt soon form on her back.

When I heard her sharp intake of breath at my actions and her lids half closed, only then did I realize what I'd done. She was straddling my lap, and the heat between her legs was pressed into my still annoyingly persistent erection. My god, even with the dulled contact through our clothes, I could still feel her, and judging by the surprised look on her face, she most definitely felt me.

So much for my instincts. I should have known better.

\--------

Sookie

I had never slept so well in all my life. I was incredibly comfortable, and oddly turned on. I knew I was dreaming, but I couldn't remember what the dream was about, only that I was sensually moving with someone strong, present, and perfect, and that I couldn't stop. My fingers twisted into his long hair and my lips sought out the soft skin of his neck while my hips moved against him. It felt incredible, despite the fact that even in my dream, I knew I was still clothed. Stupid fabric. Always getting in the way...

My partner was warm, and smelled faintly of beach, coconut, and soft leather. I could practically taste the salt on his skin as I whimpered from the sensations he was helping me create.

I didn't know when it happened, or where, but I felt him touch me and practically convulsed from the pleasure his fingers brought me. I don't even think he was touching me where I desperately needed and wanted it, but he had his hands on me and for some reason, at that moment, it was enough.

I was so close, but someone was calling my name and kissing my hair, distracting me from my goal. My dream was slipping from my grasp, but I tried to hold on, whispering his name and not realizing it. He spoke again, reassuring me that he was still with me, and I let my dream fall away with the knowledge, releasing my fingers from his hair to rub the sleep from my eyes.

Reality slowly came back into focus, and I suddenly realized what my unconscious self had been doing and with whom. I stiffened, mortified by my subconscious actions, and I peeked up to see Eric's face staring back a me with a mixture of emotions in his eyes, mostly apprehension. On reflex, I shot up out of his arms and off his chest, only to hit my head hard on the roof of his car and subsequently fall back even harder onto his dashboard.

I arched back off of his dash while cursing the knobs of his stereo for stabbing me roughly, and rubbing my head simultaneously. The part of me that had resigned itself to the attraction I had to Eric laughed maniacally at me in the back of my brain, while the rest of me cursed my idiotic reflexes. Shit, I had been so comfortable, and so close to.... well, that was over, so there was no need to depress myself by thinking back on how good it felt. But, damn, it had been incredible.

Eric sat up a moment later, and his hands moved to assess the damage I'd done to my head. I flinched away from him for a second, before he leveled me with a piercing stare filled with ice and determination that clearly said, "trust me," and I did. I relaxed myself and leaned back on the smooth surface of the glove box while he tried to look me over.

His eyes flashed with frustration a moment later, and before I knew it, he had grabbed my hips and pulled me towards him, inadvertently bringing me back into contact with the obvious bulge in his jeans. I say inadvertently because I don't think he realized what he was doing, since his eyes were solely focused on the bump that was no doubt forming on my head.

Whether he meant to pull me to him like he did or not, was irrelevant to me the second I felt him through his loose, low-slung jeans. My breath hitched, and my eyelids half closed of their own accord before they flew open again in surprised shock. Eric stilled himself beneath me, and his hands on my hips sadly lessened their grip. He was looking at me questioningly, and I answered his gaze right back with the same look.

It was the ass-crack of dawn, I hadn't had any coffee yet, which meant my brain function was running on fumes, and I was pretty sure I would have died last night if it weren't for the man I was currently on top of, so what came out of my mouth next was completely pure and embarrassing honesty.

"Eric," I spoke quietly as if that would help the blush not creep into my cheeks, "do you have any idea how much I just want to..." I let the question trail off as I gave into temptation and moved my hips against his once more. My head fell back, exposing my neck to him, and my mouth hung open as I was rendered incapable of speaking from the sensation. Sweet... Jesus.

A long and slow moan escaped my mouth, hitting the air in a mist as my arms curled around Eric's neck. He was still for a moment before he moved beneath me and I felt his warm, wet lips touch my throat hesitantly. He was asking permission, and I nodded silently above him, hoping he'd understand, since I was too chicken to look him in the eye and beg him to continue.

Still hesitant but steady, he moved his arms around me, bringing us closer as his lips and tongue and teeth began to play with the sensitive skin of my neck. I ground down into him and his hips answered by thrusting up towards mine. My hands tangled into his hair, holding his head to my throat, where he was biting and kissing, and fuck... we were two frenzied and hormonal fools writhing fully clothed against each other, probably looking like a couple of rabid animals in heat.

I started to fall backwards, and Eric's arm shot out to balance us as his other hand held my back. A loud and sudden blast hit the air, and we both halted our movements immediately at the sound, as if we had been shocked. Eric had unintentionally hit the horn on the steering wheel, and suddenly we were both too awake to continue our mauling of each other. The final, hazy remnants of sleep had left when that blast sounded, and I pushed back on his chest to get some much-needed space between us.

We were both breathing heavily, and I could see Eric trying to regain his composure as I was once again left hanging after being brought so close to the edge. Dammit. I was so freakin' worked up, and I knew he was, too, but responsible Sookie whacked me over the head hard, and the full realization of how I had ended up in Eric's arms in the first place came crashing back into focus.

The luncheon, the drive home, my eyelids closing, the sound of a car horn... Eric.

When he had pulled me out of my nightmare and into his calming embrace with his strong arms, everything had felt so right that I'd forgotten about the one person who cared about me the most, and who'd want to make sure that I was home safe and sound, and in my own bed...

"Gran!" I shouted. Eric winced at the noise, but I was reeling into full-on panic mode, and the decibel level of my voice could not be helped.

"Shit! I never made it home. Oh my god, she must be worried sick!" I looked around the front seat of the car as if the instruction manual for what to do in these situations would be staring back at me on the seat, or tucked securely into the sun visor above the windshield. Unfortunately, it wasn't. Double shit.

Eric was quiet beneath me, and I hadn't bothered to move off of him. It felt odd yet right being perched on his lap, and he made no sign that he wanted it any different, since his hands were still resting absentmindedly on my hips, so I stayed as my freak-out rocketed into full swing. My hands raked through my hair as questions and concerns flew into my head at rapid speed.

"What am I gonna do?" I asked him desperately. "She's gonna kill me, or worse, be disappointed in me! Oh god..." Painful tears prickled at the sides of my eyes and I wiped them away fiercely.

"I have to go home, I have to make sure she didn't freak out in the night and call the cops. Oh god, what if she fell again? What if she needed me and I wasn't there!?"

Yup, I was in the middle of a full-out anxiety attack. My questions were becoming more and more irrational as I diverted my guilt by projecting it onto my constant concern for my Gran's health.

Eric's gaze never wavered from me as I fell to pieces in front of him. He had stayed quiet the entire time, but as the tears started to fall down my cheeks, his hands ran up my sides from their perch on my hips and circled around my back in a tight embrace. It wasn't fevered or passionate, but caring and strong. I could practically feel the empathy and concern flowing off of him in waves as he held me against him and didn't let go.

The frantic tension in the air, which I had created when I went postal, stilled, and my breathing started to once again return to its normal pace. Eric was calming me, and I let it happen, needing the reassurance and the strength his presence offered. The intensity of the emotion he was projecting into me was staggering, but I absorbed it all, as if I were a sponge being dipped into water. When my tears stopped and I finally quieted above him, Eric pulled back and pressed a warm kiss to my forehead. I closed my eyes and ignored all the questions I had concerning him, and was simply thankful that he had, yet again, saved me. He had given me so much, and I had given him so little in return.

"Thank you," I whispered before the guilt flooded me again. If we hadn't still been wrapped around each other, he might not have heard it, but when I felt his lips pull into a smile on my skin, I knew he had.

I could feel an awkward moment coming on and quickly spoke up before a different kind of tension could fill the air. "What are we going to do?" I asked, staring at his neck, too scared to see the emotion I knew would be present in his eyes.

"Getting you home seems to be first priority," he finally spoke. His voice was husky still from sleep, and my stomach fluttered at the sound. There wasn't time for that, though, and I nodded in agreement.

I turned my head to look out the windows of the car, searching out my old Nova. When I saw it, small and sad on the side of the road by the telephone pole I had almost hit the previous night, I cringed with the memory and instinctively clung to Eric with desperate hands.

"I'll drive you back," he said, answering my question before I could even ask it.

My pride had already flown out the window hours before, so my next question I asked immediately, without pretense. "What if Gran sees your car? She'll think... "

He cut me off before I could finish, "We'll take yours, and then we'll come back here to get mine."

"Then what?" I asked.

His eyes flashed with something that had to be lust for a full second before changing back to the mischievous glint I had come to know so well during our morning talks. My face flushed at my wrongly assumed intention, but he smiled sweetly at me and simply answered, "food," before clicking open the door and gesturing towards it for us to exit.

\-------

Eric had held my hand as we slowly headed towards my car sitting unassumingly along the side of the narrow road. We walked over darkened tire tracks that covered the road in a jagged and frightening pattern, and I cringed into his side at the sight of them. I had created those. They ended abruptly in the middle of the street, but they just as easily could have diverted in a different direction if it hadn't been for Eric.

How had he found me? I'd ask him later, when my brain was operating at full speed again.

He held open the passenger side door for me when we reached the car, and I crawled into the seat with unsteady limbs. Once I was inside, I started to shake helplessly from the memories being in the car brought forth. He took my hand again when he sat down behind the wheel, and rubbed small circles into the back of my palm, soothing me once again until I stilled.

We stayed that way the entire drive back to my house, which he somehow knew his way to despite my not telling him directions. I put that observation aside for later, along with my other questions, as we pulled into my driveway. He drove around to the back of the house at my urging, and parked in my usual spot with ease.

I was dreading asking him to stay in the car while I went inside, not wanting him to think I was ashamed of him, but he beat me to my question again by telling me, after he cut the engine, that he'd wait for me. I gave him a weak smile and reluctantly withdrew my hand from his.

I took a deep breath before creaking open the back door of my house, praying that Gran was okay, or better yet, asleep and unaware that I hadn't spent the night in my bed. When I walked into the kitchen, practically on tip toes, I saw the clock for the first time this morning. It read only 6:15. Sweet Jesus, it was early!

I crept through the house as quietly as I could, checking each room as I went. I found Gran in the living room, fast asleep in her recliner, with a book draped open over her stomach. She must have fallen asleep reading while she waited for me last night. Relief flooded me as I realized that she might have never had a moment's worry concerning my whereabouts, and I quickly crept back out of the living room, not wanting to disturb her rest.

I hastily made my way back towards the kitchen, setting up the coffee on a timer so that it'd start to brew around 8 when Gran usually woke. I wrote a note explaining that I had gotten in late and headed off early to the inlet this morning, so that she wouldn't worry. I sighed with disappointment in myself for lying to her, but I justified it by arguing that what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her. I taped the slip of paper to the top of the coffee maker, knowing she'd see it first thing when she walked into the kitchen later, and then darted off to the bathroom to pee. I hadn't realized how much my bladder was screaming at me until we pulled up to the house. I also brushed my teeth, wanting desperately to get rid of the bitter taste that was still at the back of my throat. I scrubbed my tongue with the brush with vigor, hoping to forever eradicate the memory of why it was there in the first place.

\-------

Eric

While I waited in the car for Sookie to hopefully find her Gran asleep and content in the house, I allowed myself to fully take in all of the events of the past few hours.

When Sookie had finally woken, I'd expected her to freak and bolt, which just goes to show how refreshingly unpredictable she really was, because even though she did manage to hit her head on the roof of my car and badly bruise her back on the dashboard when she realized she had been using my body to masturbate with in her sleep, she had stayed. She didn't run. In fact, after I had unknowingly repositioned her on top of my straining erection -- which was ready to bust through my jeans from total frustration over the lack of skin on skin contact it was getting -- she basically told me how much wanted to feel me and ground into my hips with wanton abandon.

I was so turned on by the action and by her beautiful neck, which had careened back in pleasure, that I forgot to move at first, before being filled with the carnal need to kiss her skin and claim her. I had tried hesitantly to control myself, but when her hands twisted into my hair, holding me to her neck, I bit down with an animalistic desire to consume her, and licked and sucked until she was writhing on top of me. It had been incredible.

Unfortunately, our hormonal frenzy was cut short by my idiotic move of blasting the horn when really, I was just looking to gain to some balance, as we were both starting to fall from the momentum our movements had caused. I had been frustrated that our reconnection had once again been cut short, but when Sookie whispered "thank you" into my skin after I had calmed her from her panic attack, my heart practically soared out of my chest at the sound. Realizing our sexual chemistry was mind bogglingly intense was one thing, but hearing her gratitude, even if it was only a whisper, filled me with an emotion too mature for my short years. This girl had me wrapped around her finger, and I never wanted to be anywhere else.

I was so screwed, and euphoric because of it.

The click of the passenger door opening brought me back to the present, and I turned to see Sookie sliding back into the car with an adorable blush staining her cheeks. She seemed nervous and unsure of herself, and I wanted to frown at her insecurity. She was beautiful and desirable, and I wanted nothing more than to stay in her presence for as long as she'd let me. I unabashedly took her hand in mine again the second she had settled herself. Her stomach growled then, and the blush in her cheeks flared crimson once more, but I smiled, fascinated to see how it made her skin glow.

"Are you hungry?" I asked, arching an eyebrow with curiosity. She nodded in response.

"Good, I know just where to go," I said before throwing the car into reverse and pulling out of her driveway with idiotic happiness bubbling up inside of me.


	14. Chapter 14

"Eric?" Sookie's voice was tentative and came out sounding small beside me.

"Hmm?"

"We're going back to get your car, right?"

I cocked my head in her direction, arching an eyebrow at the odd question. I was planning on just heading to my house to get some good food in her stomach -- I'd worry about picking up my baby later -- but when I took in her expression, I decided making a detour to the B&B first might be the wiser choice. She looked pale and uneasy, and I was beginning to wonder if this girl, who could be so feisty and confident in public, ever actually allowed herself to relax in private. Then she started to expand on her question, and an adorable crease appeared between her eyebrows, making me smile at the sight, and lose track of why I had started to question her behavior in the first place.

"I don't think... what I mean is... " Sookie fumbled.

She was struggling, and I didn't know why. I wanted to pull her to my side, kiss her hair, and assure her that she'd never have to be uncertain around me, but I was worried she'd freak at my sudden intensity. Even my hormones were saying, 'hold back Northman, you'll scare the girl.' So I sat and waited for her to finish, feeling empty without her hand in mine, because it was occupied, wringing itself with its partner in her lap.

"... I feel wrong saying this; I should be grateful for the things I've been given, but..." the sentence trailed off in a huff, and she turned her face to stare out the window. It didn't even seem as if she was addressing me, but herself. I was now utterly confused. What the hell was she talking about?

She didn't bother trying to explain herself again after her first attempt, and I was so wrapped up in trying to figure her out that I forgot to actually ask her what was wrong. The air crackled with tension, and the silence of the drive became deafening as the minutes passed. I tried in vain to take her hand again, but she shrugged it out of my grip and curled herself away from me, further towards the passenger side door. My nostrils flared in frustration, wondering why she was yet again shutting herself off from me. I gripped the wheel and gunned the engine, needing something to occupy my attention.

I pulled into the B&B's parking lot a few minutes later. The second I put the car into park, Sookie was propelling herself out the door with more force than I thought her capable of. To say I was slightly shocked, and maybe a wee bit peeved, was an understatement. I followed her -- what else was I going to do? -- confusion evident in my eyes.

"Sookie, what happened back there?" I asked, feeling desperate. She was standing behind the car, her hands clenched into tiny fists as she swayed from side to side on her unsteady feet.

She didn't answer. Instead she closed her eyes and shook her head while turning her back to me.

Oh, hell no. I wasn't having any of that. We had made progress today and last night. I felt like she had accepted our mutual attraction to one another, and more importantly, accepted me as someone who wanted to be part of her life. She didn't run when she had woken up, and she didn't run when I had driven her home; she wasn't going to run from me now. I walked up behind her, as fast as my legs could take me, and turned her around so I could see the truth in her eyes. She tried to shun me once more, but I braced my hands on either side of her face, willing her eyes to meet mine.

When they finally did, I saw the tears she was trying to hide. She was crying? My god, her mood swings were epic. Then again, the girl had been through a lot in the past day. I hadn't even asked her why she dared to drive while being so tired.

"Sookie," I whispered, putting my confusion and concern all into that one little word.

She shook her head once more and tried to free herself, but I pulled her towards me, holding her to my chest as my arms wrapped around her. I buried my nose in her hair and breathed in her sweet scent, calming my worries as I simultaneously tried to calm hers.

"Sookie, whatever you have to say, just say it. I won't let you run from me again."

She shuddered in my arms as she continued to shake her head back and forth against me, but her hands were also rubbing up and down my chest, feeling me and taking me in. I allowed her to take what she wanted, hoping it'd help her explain to me what she was trying so hard to hide.

In a small, cracked voice, I heard her. "I don't want to get back in that car, Eric."

I had been rubbing soothing circles into her back, but stilled the second she said those words. What car? I looked down to see her staring past my arm at her old Nova with fear in her eyes. I was so shocked by the news, having thought the worst, and not expecting this outcome in the slightest, that like an insensitive fool, I threw my head back in a loud burst of laughter.

Sookie's head shot up, the terror in her eyes now turned to glowing rage. "Don't laugh at me, Northman," she seethed. I didn't let her even try and squirm out of my grip, I simply held her tighter and buried my face in her hair once again.

"Sookie, is that why you bolted before? Why you wouldn't hold my hand? You felt upset from being in the car?" I asked her, my tone serious, but tinged with the smile I still had on my face.

"Yes," she spat. Her voice was defiant, but her hands still gripped my arms tightly at the memory.

I laughed again, utter relief bubbling inside of me. Sookie was getting more pissed by the second, though, so I explained to her quickly before she kneed me in the balls. "I thought you were pulling away from me again," I spoke softly into her hair, feeling her shiver at my words.

"I've... I've already resigned myself to that, Eric."

"What do you mean?" I asked her, my nose brushing the rim of her ear.

"I don't want to pull away from you, but I can't be forced into things, either," she said, her tone slightly edgier than I would have liked. An obvious and heavy history was evident in her statement.

"I would never force anything on you, Sookie."

"You're forcing me into an embrace right now."

Immediately I withdrew my arms from around her and stood up straight, pulling my face away from where it was tantalizingly close to kissing the soft skin of her neck, and taking several steps back from her in the process. My swift action was rewarded with a whimper as her hands clutched empty air where my body had once been, leaving Sookie alone and looking vulnerable in the middle of the parking lot. I held back a smirk at her reaction, knowing she wanted me holding her just as much as I wanted to have her in my arms.

Her face grew from defeated to defiant once more, the feisty side of her nature coming into full bloom with the early morning sun.

She practically stomped her foot before folding her arms and saying, "that's not fair."

"What's not?" I cocked an eyebrow at her.

"You know what."

The smirk I had been trying to hide finally crept onto my lips as I took a step towards her. Seeing her shiver from the morning chill, I started to remove my jacket before she put up her hand to stop me. I merely slowed my movements.

"I don't want your jacket," she said. My eyebrow rose even higher in question, as I continued to remove one arm from its leather confines.

"You don't?" I asked.

"No."

I freed my other arm and brought the coat in front of me, holding its collar and taking another step towards her. "What do you want, Sookie?"

She blinked rapidly at me before opening her mouth, and then closing it again.

"I... I want..."

I took another step. "You want..." I prompted, leaning down slightly, if only to be closer to her.

"Uh..." she started again, as I stood before her, with nothing but mere inches between us. Very carefully, I moved to drape the jacket around her shoulders, holding her gaze with mine, still asking her with my eyes. She took a deep breath after I had finished wrapping my jacket around her, and her next words died in her throat as a large growl erupted from her stomach.

A chuckle I couldn't help escaped my mouth. "Saved by the bell, Sookie," I said before turning from her and walking towards the Impala. When I reached the passenger side door, I finally turned to gauge the expression on her face. It was priceless. Sookie looked utterly frustrated and confused, standing alone in my jacket. "I know what you want, Sookie," I said, while opening the door for her, though she hadn't moved from her spot.

"What?" she squeaked, her eyes bugging slightly in shock.

"Food."

Her tense stance relaxed at my response, and she hesitated only slightly before she started to walk towards me. I held in my satisfaction, trying to keep the smile on my face as sweet as possible, while my hormones leapt with joy inside of me. I had won this tiny battle, and Sookie had come to me willingly.

Go me.

Sookie

Sweet Jesus, did he have to stalk towards me like that? Like a god damned rebel with a very clear cause. He oozed confidence, and his impressive stature didn't help matters as he leaned down over me with a quiet power that wasn't overbearing, but simply present. He could assert himself if he wanted, but never dared around me, something that I very much appreciated. He wasn't forcing me, as he promised he wouldn't -- just teasing the sanity out of me with his smirks and the mischievous glint in his eyes.

It'd been so hard for me to vocalize what I had been feeling in the car. The memories and the what ifs were too clear in my mind to be back there so soon. The smell of the car, in particular, made the images of last night crisper, and I squirmed in my seat, wanting out. The sounds of screeching tires echoed through my mind, and I clenched my eyes shut, removing my gaze from the road, willing the bile to stay down.

When Eric had tried to take my hand, on reflex I withdrew it. I didn't mean to hurt him by the gesture; I was just so used to recoiling into myself when troubled, I didn't trust anyone to care for me, unless it was Gran. Eric had proved himself to me ten times over, and I knew all he wanted was to reassure me with his presence, but the deed had been done once I'd curled myself away from him, and my stubborn nature didn't allow my hand to slink back into his grasp, like I so desperately wanted it to. Damn my mind. It was torturing me with replaying last night's images on a deathly loop, and not allowing me to feel Eric. I was back in my nightmare.

I tried to explain what I was feeling, at the same time as I was fruitlessly attempting to bring myself out of the little horror show in my brain, but I couldn't get out the words, and Eric was quietly waiting for me to continue. I simply couldn't, though, so the air grew thick with tension as we drove on, and my ever constant need to be out of the vehicle intensified.

The second he pulled into the parking lot of the B&B, I was out of the car as if I had been fired out of a cannon. My feet touched solid ground and with that, reality came back. Thank god.

But, I had caused a rift between Eric and me, yet again, and I hated myself for it. The second we seemed to find ourselves on the same page, I was always the one to skip ahead or jump back. He'd never want to deal with me at this rate, and so my walls went up.

I tried to keep away from him, but he was (thankfully) relentless. He held me to him, and whispered into my hair, soothing me and asking me to explain. When I did, and he laughed, I seethed with anger beneath him. How dare he laugh at me, but his face was sweet and his comments were vulnerable. He had thought I was recoiling from him in dislike. He obviously hadn't realized yet that I was totally mental. I guess he knew now.

When he practically rocketed himself out of my arms and across the parking lot from me when I told him I didn't like being forced, he seemed to take all my breath away with him. I literally couldn't breathe. I needed him back, like I needed the oxygen so desperately in my lungs. I was in over my head, and I couldn't stop it.

Even worse, he knew it, too, as evidenced by the glint in his eye as he cocked his eyebrow and dared to put his jacket around my shoulders, even though I told him defiantly that I didn't want it. Of course I wanted it. More importantly, I wanted Eric. And more importantly still, he knew it. And so, I allowed the warmth of his jacket to envelop me and inhaled deeply, wanting to breathe in his essence.

I was so screwed.

During our weird charade of mind games, in which Eric attempted to make me melt in front of him using just his eyes, and I attempted to tamp my ever present need for food down, my stomach won out in the battle. It growled, loudly, and Eric's eyes -- which, for some ungodly reason, had obviously set out to destroy me -- became even more intense. The heat within them was suddenly tinted with mischief, making me tingle in all the right places. Or wrong, depending on how you looked at it.

"Saved by the bell, Sookie," he whispered huskily, and my stomach dropped with a devastating effect. Suddenly I wasn't hungry for food, but for giving into the need that was scratching at the edges of my brain and manifesting itself with the persistent ache that had yet to be satisfied from the earlier this morning.

When he told me he knew what I wanted, I practically balked in front of him. Oh god, was I that transparent? Of course I was. Dammit. I was stomping my foot like an insolent school girl on the inside, scolding myself, but there was no point in denying him anymore. He was standing next to the Impala, the passenger door held open with one hand, the other held out to me in an invitation, which -- after a moment's of final hesitation -- I took. I walked forward with my head held as high as I could, trying to keep my dignity about me after losing this battle. Don't think that I didn't see the satisfaction in Eric's blue eyes. They were practically dancing the smug-two-step, and I felt the need to tell him so.

"Don't get cocky," I warned as I stepped into the Impala, perfectly happy. This car didn't bring forth any bad memories, only good, albeit unsatisfied ones. I snuggled down into the leather seat with a smile on my face, pretending that I didn't hear his laughter as he walked over to the driver's side.

We were back on the same page again. Let's see how long we could stay here, I challenged myself as Eric drove off, leaving my car and all my nightmares behind us.

\-------

I must have been really tired, or just really distracted from staring at Eric unabashedly for ten minutes straight, because he somehow managed to drive us to his destination, park the car, and cut the engine without me noticing that a single minute went by.

Yeah, shit, I was in deep.

I was realizing that I had never seemed to allow myself to really look at Eric for an extended period of time before. To really take him in. With my guards finally down, I had succumbed to the temptation, and, well, wow. No, more than that... fuckwow. I don't know how I had ignored his beauty for so many years, but he was incredible. His hair was a messy tangle of blond strands, thrown in sexy, haphazard disarray about his face from the wind, and he was wearing an old, faded sweatshirt that seemed to be a size too small, but he was still incredible. Even more so when coupled with his subtle body language; the gentle, yet graceful strength in his movements somehow made him more attractive. I suddenly had an urge to go check my old yearbooks to see if photos of Eric actually did him any justice.

"We're here," he said with a lopsided smile, and I blinked a few times, being pulled from my ponderings, and adjusting my eyes to something other than Eric's profile, to look around and finally take in my surroundings.

We were at Eric's house.

He'd taken me to his house?

"Oh," I responded stupidly. He laughed next to me, a welcoming sound, before the creak the of the car door signaled his departure. He was at my side, holding open the door for me within seconds. I blinked at him again, trying to read his expression. What was he getting at?

"Don't give me that look," he said playfully before offering me his hand. "My brother's a fuckin' amazing cook. Plus, something tells me by the look of that car in the drive with the Cali plates, that he never got to sleep last night. Which means, he's probably in the kitchen with the munchies right now. We'll benefit." He then winked at me.

Eric Do-I-Look-Like-I-Give-A-Fuck Northman, the very same that I had dry humped no less than an hour ago, had winked at me.

What else was I supposed to do? I took his hand.


	15. Chapter 15

We walked up to the front porch holding hands. I felt oddly self conscious, thinking back to the last time we were here. Eric had leaned on me for support after he, in his own quiet way, had supported me by listening to my obnoxious consta-ramblings on the jetty. His legs had fallen asleep during my endless rant, and the poor, sweet bastard couldn't walk by the time I had finished. Together we carefully climbed off the rocks wrapped in each other's arms, and I wondered if – and maybe hoped -- someone would see us and assume we were a couple. That brought up a rather significant question... what were we?

I didn't have time to analyze; Eric had already walked us up the steps, past the pretty old porch swing I had always admired, and over the threshold of his front door faster than I had anticipated. Damn Eric and his long ass legs. Suddenly, I was inside his house, and I had no idea what to expect.

Then again, I guess no one could ever really anticipate witnessing an Eric clone jumping an entire flight of stairs wearing nothing but a towel, seeing what was underneath that towel -- crap, I need coffee to process this shit -- and then having said clone landing directly in front of you while wielding a Swiffer floor duster as a weapon.

No, I dare say I wouldn't have been able to prepare myself for that image.

Eric's clone, or brother I assumed, bared his teeth to me in a feral grin, as I took in the state of him. There were bags under his blood-shot, dilated eyes, and a slight sheen of sweat was present on his brow, but despite his doped-out appearance, he was still rather impressive. At closer inspection, I found that his features were less angular than Eric's, and his nose didn't have the same slope to it that Eric's had. His eyes were green, not blue, and his skin held a very deep tan. Eric was never tan. I knew he came from a surfing family, but clearly his sibling didn't suffer the same lack of pigmentation as he.

I hadn't intended to study him so closely, but I was shocked by his rather eccentric entrance, and really didn't know what to say, or do, so I stood stupidly, rooted to the spot in the foyer while Eric tried to hold in a laugh -- or a strangled choke; I couldn't tell -- beside me.

"Eric? That you?" I heard someone else shout from another room. I hadn't anticipated that either. How many brothers did Eric have? My mind wasn't functioning correctly, considering I'd just seen Brother 1.0's peen not two moments before, and was trying to desperately eradicate the image from my brain. Eric gave my hand a squeeze; whether it was in reassurance or apology, I didn't know. I'd take both, but really only needed the reassurance at that moment. I didn't have the energy for anything else.

Bro 1.0 had gone quiet in front of us, 'dazed and confused' being the perfect phrase to describe his state, until his eyes ignited with realization.

"Herrejävlar, kompis! Är det här tjejen du försökte få tag på i Cali?"

I blinked, not accustomed to the cadence of the language I assumed to be Swedish coming out of Swiffer boy in front of me. Eric's brother's voice bounced like a rubber ball, and I stared at his mouth, fascinated as his lips curled around the foreign words. Eric squeezed my hand again, except this time, I didn't think it was meant for my comfort, since his nostrils flared and he gave his brother a look filled with threat and ice that chilled even me. His hand must have clenched on instinct.

"Ja det är hon, men om du gör mig generad, kan du kyssa din mänskliga tillvaro farväl."**

I had no idea what they were saying, but Eric's voice was filled with venom, and frankly, I was a little intimidated. Apparently, so was Swiffer boy, because he backed down not a moment later, though the smile never left his lips. He threw up the peace sign in an exaggerated gesture before he turned on his heel and skipped, nay frolicked, out of the room.

Well, he was certainly one happy dude.

Eric sighed loudly beside me, and I looked up at him in an attempt to give him a weak, freaked-as-all-get-out smile, but the voice that had called out before from the other room suddenly materialized in human form in front of us, and my eyes were once again diverted to another Eric look-alike. This one, however, was the epitome of a California surfer. A Z-boy in every sense of the term. The Dude came to mind immediately, as he stood there in nothing but boxers and an old, striped bathrobe, with a spatula in one hand and a bong in the other. If he'd been wearing aviators, I probably would have died laughing, but alas, I could hardly form words, let alone full-out laughter. Eric's brothers were half-clothed, doped out eccentrics. Suddenly, Eric's own quirks didn't seem so strange. I shook my head at the insane observation.

My god... I need coffee. Coffee now, I thought.

When I did finally find the ability to speak, for the life of me, I have no idea why I said what I did, but I'm guessing a combination of shock, lack of sleep, and zero caffeine to compensate, probably had something to do with it.

"Eric wears Björn Borg boxers too."

I said it as if I were pointing out a print of a painting on the wall. Oh, I have that in my home, as well. But no, that would have made things easy, and 'things' with my idiotic mind were never easy.

Booming laughter, a faint harmonizing echo of Eric's own, immediately ricocheted off the walls of the front hallway, sealing my fate. Shit, I did not just say that...

Except I had. Not only had I drawn attention to the fact that I'd noticed Eric's brother's boxers in the first place, but also, that I knew Eric wore them as well. God, what his brother must be thinking! I didn't need a mirror to realize my face was probably beet red.

Nicely done, Sookie. Classy.

Eric looked over at me with a slightly shocked, slightly awed grin on his face -- a natural reaction to the situation for any sane person. However, I apparently am not sane, and instantly felt the sting of paranoia hit me. I scowled back at him for his grin, removed my hand from his, and folded my arms across my chest defensively. I suddenly just wanted to be home in my bed, away from everyone and everything, waiting for the tea kettle to whistle.

Embarrassment: the downfall of the insecure.

Eric's expression turned from lighthearted to frustrated disappointment when I withdrew my hand, and his eyes locked with mine, refusing to let me recoil from him fully. In my mind, I was thinking he couldn't really blame me for having such a crazy reaction to meeting his brothers in their current state of drug-addled insanity. At least I hadn't screamed bloody murder, drop-kicked Swiffer boy, and fled out the front door in an instinctive rush of adrenaline-fueled self preservation. That had to count for something, right?

Judging by his kicked puppy dog look, I'd say, no.

The Dude stayed quiet in front of us, letting the air fill with tension as Eric and I had a stare down of epic proportions in his front hallway. I really wished that Lil' Lebowski would say something and pull me from Eric's gaze. I was beginning to feel so many emotions, I feared I might start crying for lack of a better thing to do. Seriously. As if I didn't have enough to be embarrassed about at that moment.

"Oh, hello there!" a sweet voice trilled at me, coming from my right. I turned around and saw a petite woman standing behind me, with warm brown eyes, and a cute little bob of a haircut. Thankfully, she seemed sober, but she surprised me by extending her arms and pulling my body into a lung-crushing hug without warning.

Well, hello to you too, lady.

I looked over at Eric for an explanation of who this person was, but his gaze was averted from mine, staring at his shoes. I felt the guilt hit me like a blow to the chest. I had hurt him. I turned my head back towards the woman constricting my airflow, willing myself to not cry in front of his family. God, I hated myself sometimes.

When I was allowed to breathe again, the woman gave my face a good look before speaking to El Duderino over my shoulder.

"She's a vision!"

I blushed furiously. Who was this sweet woman with freakishly strong arms?

"Thank you," I mumbled, my voice small. Eric coughed behind me, clearing his throat.

"Burger, Missie, I'd like you two to meet Sookie Stackhouse," he said in a controlled, professional sounding voice. I dared another look back at him, suddenly wanting him near me. He was near you before, but you pulled away again, you douchewad, my brain screamed at me. Eric's jaw was set, and his eyes were level, unreadable. His demeanor communicated nothing to me, except for the hand that gestured out in my direction the next second. "Sookie," he started, giving me a slightly softened look that made my heart clench, "this is my brother, Burger, and Missie Summers. A family friend."

Missie didn't leave me the time to pine over my emotional fumble with Eric; she hugged me tightly to her small frame once again, and then turned us towards the opposite direction from where she came.

"It's fabulous to meet you Sookie. You look like you could use a nice cup of coffee," she said with a wink.

Oh lady, if you only knew. I automatically tried to smooth out my hair at her statement, wondering what state of brokedown rag-doll mess I was currently in.

"Come on, I'll take you to the kitchen," she said, holding me close.

She led me away from the boys in the hall, past the Dude (who was smirking at me knowingly) and through a large, sun-filled living area, before entering the kitchen. I looked over my shoulder before we turned a corner, away from the hallway, searching out Eric's eyes again, only to find him talking quietly with his brother behind us.

Again, I wasn't allowed time to think. Missie had launched into an energetic bout of curiosity, throwing a slew of slightly personal, but sweetly-delivered questions at me, as she poured me a cup of coffee with way too much milk and sugar added in. I took it without complaint, though, not wanting to hurt her feelings. I had done enough of that this morning.

I shook my head, tamping down the emotions creating a knot in my throat, and tried to focus fully on Missie's questions. Her smile was bright and her demeanor, though annoyingly chipper for this early in the morning, was one you simply had to like. She was a sweetheart, in every sense.

Slowly but surely, boys materialized into the kitchen one by one, in different states of undress. Swiffer boy had thankfully put on a pair of boxers -- Björn Borg, of course -- and threw on a baggy Zephyr t-shirt over his bare chest as he entered through what I thought was the pantry door.

I didn't ask.

The Dude, aka Burger, made his entrance a few minutes later, still with spatula in hand, though the bong had been discarded. Probably put away some place safe from the roaming hands of house guests, I assumed. A picture of a Lebowski shrine came to mind suddenly, complete with Kahlúa, green toenail polish, and a stash positioned on a pedestal, surrounded by those Jesus candles sold randomly in the pasta aisle at the grocery stores, and capped off with a framed painting of Guadalupe in the background.

If I hadn't been so confused about my current standing with Eric, and being asked question after question by Missie, not to mention the soon-to-be diabetic coma I was sure to slip into from her coffee, I would have hopped off the stool and gone in search of his room first thing.

A pang of guilt cut through me again, and I looked around, wondering where Eric had gone. He had left me alone, in a house full of stoned strangers. I realized I had been a brat, but jesus, did he have to leave me in the deep end?

I guess it didn't matter; I couldn't blame him. All I wanted to do was apologize.

"Burger," Missie said, giving him a sweet smile, "Sookie here looks hungry; what do we have for her?"

"Plenty, my little honey bee," Burger exclaimed, his robe flying about him like a cape as he spun around before landing in front of the large Viking stove and opening up the oven beneath.

What he pulled out amazed me: plate after plate of waffles, pancakes, stuffed crepes, and some other kind of entrée hidden inside rolled-up tortillas. Missie, in turn, skipped towards the fridge and pulled out several types of fruit juices and syrups, all presented in pretty glass pitchers.

"Burger's been cooking since 5am; he couldn't be stopped," Missie explained as she presented it all in front of me on the counter. I nodded, awed, before guilt hit me once more. Eric had guessed perfectly at his brother's late night shenanigans. I looked around the room again, my eyes searching out every entryway there was into the large, airy space. Where was he?

"Hmm, we seem to have lost her attention, Missie," Burger said with narrowed eyes. She tapped her chin thoughtfully before digging back into the cavernous, Mary Poppins carpetbag of an oven. Hidden behind all the pancakes and waffles was a sheet of what looked like legit Southern biscuits, only to be topped off by a pot of perfectly creamy looking sausage gravy, which Burger revealed simmering under the lid of a pan on the stovetop. My mouth dropped open.

"Ah, I do believe we've found a winner!" Missie shouted, as she pulled a plate from the cabinet and started forking open the biscuits before ladling the gravy over them.

"This looks just like my Gran's recipe," I said, shocked.

"Well, I do love American soul food," Burger said wistfully at my comment, his eyes glazing over in hunger. He had no doubt been struck with a case of the inevitable munchies. Missie patted him on the arm, handing him a plate, and he smiled back at her sweetly.

"INGMAR!" Eric suddenly bellowed from somewhere off on the second floor, disrupting the pleasant scene in front of me. Despite the anger in his tone, the knot of worry in my stomach started to unwind at the sound of his voice. At least he hadn't left the house. Everyone's eyes immediately darted towards the main door of the kitchen, where Swiffer boy, or Ingmar apparently, was currently doing a headstand against the door-jamb... of course.

Burger started to chuckle in front of me, as Ingmar, red faced from balancing upside down, fell to the floor in a fit of laughter. I looked back at Missie, asking silently what the hell was happening. She looked perplexed, which worried me.

We heard the muffled rumbles of Eric's feet running down the stairs about two seconds before he appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, glaring down at Ingmar, now lying as still as a corpse on the floor. I almost didn't notice a tiny little bulldog pup held in the crook of his arm, I was so confused by Ingmar's odd behavior.

"Seriously Ingmar? Seriously?" He was brandishing a pair of chewed-up sandals in his face.

"Aw, were those your favorite, Eric?" Missie asked genuinely, her brow furrowing.

"Yes. They were." His head shot up, addressing Missie, and throwing the ruined sandals in Swiffer boy-slash-Ingmar's face. He started to walk forward, but stopped mid stride when he noticed me, sitting at the counter. His eyes flooded with an emotion I couldn't quite place, and the air immediately became charged with electricity, leaving me breathless from the effect. How did I go five years hating this man? I was a fool.

"I'm sorry," I mouthed to him after a moment, wishing he'd come close to me again. I missed he feel of him near me.

God, did I just think that? I asked myself.

Yes, yes you did.

If I could barely breathe being in the same room with him, how the hell was I supposed to get through school? What the fuck had happened between last night and now? I was more than in over my head; I was full-on dead in the water.

Missie, assessing the tension in the air, piped up, squeaking with excitement when she saw the pup in Eric's hands.

"Oh, my little boy! Come here," she extended her arms, opening and closing her hands with enthusiasm. Eric handed her the dog blindly, never once removing his gaze from mine.

"Would you like to meet my little man, Sookie?" Missie asked excitedly. I nodded, still not removing my eyes from Eric's. A small smile was playing at a corner of his lips, and that tiny tug of a grin was flooding my body with such warmth that I blushed from the feel of it.

Before I knew it, a warm little fuzz ball was being placed gently in my lap, and licking happily at my hand. The sensation tickled me, and I smiled involuntarily, before finally looking away from Eric and at the pup in my arms. His little stub of a tail was wagging enthusiastically as the little thing tried to crawl up my arms to get a better look at me. I leaned down, rubbing his little head with my hands, thoroughly enjoying the little pup's excitement.

"What's his name?" I asked Eric. No one answered.

I looked around to each person in the room, slightly confused.

"The little guy doesn't have a name?"

Three heads shook back in forth in unison at my question. I frowned.

"Well, we can't have that," I said, looking at the pup, giving him a quizzical stare, happy to have something to distract me from Eric's intensity. "Hmm, what is your name, little man?" The puppy merely looked up at me with wide brown eyes, his tongue hanging lazily out of the side of his mouth.

I didn't have the chance to ponder for very long. Apparently, I hadn't met my humiliation quota for the day, or karma was just playing a cruel trick on me, because the second I picked up the unnamed bundle of fuzz and cuteness to get a closer look at him, the little bastard peed on me.

I mean literally: Peed. On. Me.

Piss. All down my shirt and pants. Thank god he missed my boots, because they had been my mother's from the '70s, and if the little urine turd had marked his territory on them, I don't care how cute the little thing was; I would have chucked him clear across the room. Missie squealed in shock the second she realized what was happening, grabbing the pup from behind and running with him towards the door, as a steady stream of piss coated anything in its path.

I was left in the room, surrounded by boys, covered in piss. Oh, God, please kill me now. I could feel the flush in my cheeks and buried my face in my hands in shame. I wanted to laugh at how ridiculous this all was, but I found myself holding back tears for the second time that morning.

Missie came running back into the room the next second, scolding the boys for not having helped me, and immediately pulling me from the stool and dragging me upstairs. I passed by Eric in the doorway and felt his hand brush with mine. The slight contact caused a visceral reaction within me, and I turned towards him, amazed.

"I'll help her, Missie," he said, his tone filled with authority.

"Oh hush. You will do no such thing. Have some breakfast; we'll be back soon. Let me think, do I have anything you could wear while your things are washed..." Missie was speaking a mile a minute as she led me up the stairs with gentle hands. I turned my head away from the boys below, no longer able to hold back the tears in my eyes. Emotional overload had finally taken hold.

Missie noticed this when we reached the bathroom door and her eyes widened in shock.

"Oh no, sweetie, you're crying! Oh, that stupid dog. He's yet to be house trained. I'm so sorry. Here, here, hop in the shower and clean yourself up while I throw your things in the laundry. You'll feel better in no time!" She said all of this while pulling my top over my head.

"That's nice of you, but really, I could just wash them in the sink," I offered, but Missie was having none of it, shushing me the entire time.

A knock on the door sounded as I once again tried to convince her otherwise, and we both froze, turning to the look at the door as if it was about to burst into flames.

"Sookie?" Eric said, his voice muffled but clear.

"Eric!" Missie shouted at him before I could even answer. "Get out of here."

"I was just checking if she needed anything..." he tried to say, but Missie cut him off, much like she had me.

"Sookie is perfectly capable of taking care of herself; now if you want to help, go find her a sweatshirt to wear. It's cold out and I have almost nothing in my suitcase," she said while giving me an apologetic look, before adding, "... and make sure it's clean!"

We both heard a grumble behind the door before the sounds of Eric's footfalls echoed down the hallway. Missie left a few moments later with reassurance that she'd find me a pair of shorts to wear and some kind of top from her packing. The woman was nothing if not sweet and hospitable. It was a little overwhelming, actually.

\------

Showering in Eric's house was an interesting experience, to say the least. Being naked in the same spot he stood naked practically every day excited me in ways I didn't think were possible. It was oddly and extremely erotic, despite its lack of tangibility. It wasn't as if he was naked with me, now, though I did find myself imagining that scenario more than once during my time in the shower. I scolded myself each time my mind drifted towards that image, sadly realizing that he was probably still hurt by my actions, or at least disappointed in me.

Trying to distract myself with a task, I picked up the shampoo bottle, deciding to wash my hair as long as I was in here. This turned out to be a horrible idea, since the front of the bottle had a palm tree on it, which should have tipped me off, but no, I popped the top and stupidly inhaled. A beautifully simple yet present scent of coconuts wafted through my senses, immediately rocketing my thoughts back towards images of Eric and his strong arms surrounding me, holding me and touching me. I rubbed my thighs together absentmindedly, not fully realizing what I was doing.

Like a damn addict, I poured a dollop of the shampoo into my hand and massaged it thoroughly through my hair and into my scalp. It was thrilling. The steam heat of the water filled the room with his scent, and I literally moaned into the air as the suds cascaded down my body, coating me in its essence. This, of course, didn't help the images in my head. My brain was practically running rampant with inappropriate fantasies. It was staggering how much I found myself not only wanting him, but needing him, though I had yet to decide if this was a good thing or a bad thing.

In the middle of my personal Herbal Essences commercial, I heard a knock at the door, and stilled myself immediately.

Was it Eric? Shit, did I want it to be Eric?

Yes. If I was being truthful with myself, I very much wanted it to be Eric. My stomach clenched as I strained my ears for the slightest sound.

"Sookie?" Missie's disembodied voice asked me through the door, cutting off my anticipation in its tracks. I released the breath I didn't know I'd been holding, and sagged my shoulders in disappointment. She merely said that she had found me some clothes, and was placing them on the counter, and not to be alarmed. I called out a "thank you" to her as sweetly as I could, trying to keep the disappointment hidden in my tone.

Kicking myself for being so idiotic to even dare and hope, I cleaned up quickly after my mental interruption, not wanting to spend any more time in a useless fantasy, or Eric's shower. It was doing things to my libido that certainly weren't healthy.

I dried my hair as best I could with my towel, dressed in the pair of sleep shorts and tank top Missie had provided me, and a sweatshirt I assumed was Eric's -- since it was huge -- before searching around the bathroom in vain for a hairbrush.

What, these boys all had shaggy, long hair; they didn't comb it?

I already felt extremely awkward in Missie's clothes, thinking of how much trouble I had caused her, and the anal part of me was screaming to have something about my person that was somewhat put together. I decided that that something was going to be my hair.

I boldly stalked the hallway of the second floor after leaving the bathroom in search of a hairbrush, peeking behind each door as I went. The first was a boy's room, but it had a suitcase and its contents scattered across the bed, the clothes belonging to a girl. It was obvious that was Burger's room, and so I moved on, knowing Missie probably had a hairbrush, but I wasn't so ill-mannered as to rudely snoop through her things; she had already given me enough.

Snooping through Eric's things, however, was a whole other matter. One about which I didn't feel badly at all, oddly enough. Now again, if I were being truthful with myself -- this was beginning to become my mantra -- I'd admit I was probably just looking for an excuse to see Eric's room. Sue me, but my curiosity was at a breaking point, and after peeking behind the door belonging to a linen closet, and moving onto the next one down the hall, I found his. What tipped me off was the pair of chewed up sandals, sadly sitting at the threshold.

The door to his room was slightly ajar, and my hand rested hesitantly on the knob before I took a steadying breath and pushed the door open in one quick movement. What I saw before me when I did, was not what I expected. Eric's room was.... clean. Well, clean for a boy. There was a pile of laundry in one corner, and several hoodies and a pair of jeans strewn across his bed (which wasn't made) but other than that, the place seemed light and welcoming. There were French doors leading out to a balcony, and the ocean was visible from his windows. I was envious of such an impressive view. How calming that must be to look out on the ocean every morning. No wonder he had found me that day on the jetty; I could see it plainly, even from his doorway.

There was a large wooden chest of drawers on the left-hand wall, located next to his closet. On top was a hairbrush, plain as day. I smiled excitedly, having found what I wanted, and managed to see Eric's room all at once. I grabbed it off the top of the chest and quickly went to work on my drying hair. The view of the ocean was calling to me, though, as I pulled the brush through my tangled locks, and I wandered towards the French doors, transfixed by the blue water as the sun dangled low and large over it.

I didn't know how long I had been standing there, absentmindedly brushing my hair, but when I heard a creak behind me, my hand faltered. I knew it was Eric from the sense of calm that came over me, but still I stiffened, not knowing how to act around him anymore. I wanted him, that I knew, but I was too scared to turn around and see an indifferent or resigned look on his face. So, I stood frozen in my unrest, waiting.

Eric

That fucking dog.

Seriously, the little fucker had to eat my shoes and then piss all over Sookie? The shoes weren't bad enough; he had to mark his territory all over my girl?

My girl? Dammit... I hadn't just said that. She wasn't mine. I wished she was, but she ran so hot and cold with me, I had no idea where I stood with her. Come to think of it, she didn't really even seem to know where she stood with herself, let alone me.

Regardless, that didn't make it okay for the inferno to urinate all over her. She had looked so adorable with the pup in her arms, showing him affection while trying to think of a name for the little douchenozzle. I didn't even realize he had started to leak on her lap until Missie practically screamed, grabbing the pissbag and running out the back door with it. Poor Sookie sat there unmoving, looking stunned. I didn't know how to react to that particular dilemma. How do you handle the situation of your dog pissing on the girl you're obsessed over without seeming like a barbarian from the outcome? My first instinct wasn't to go to Sookie, but to kill the whizwad currently out in the backyard.

I kicked myself for that momentary lapse of concentration later when Missie came running back in, practically threw Sookie over her shoulder, and started hauling her upstairs, leaving a stream of apologies in her wake. When Sookie's fingers brushed mine in the doorway, I was brought back to my senses and instantly found myself wanting to be the one to care of her. Missie shot me down, of course, and if I actually took the time to think about it, as opposed to being the possessive bastard I'd become, it did make sense, since she was the woman in the house.

Screw proper social etiquette, though; I wasn't going to fold that easily. I flew up the stairs after them, determined to do something for Sookie, and not just be left in the kitchen with my dazed-out brothers. I knocked on the door of the bathroom, just wanting to make sure she was alright, and telling Missie as much when she dismissed me through the door.

I heard the water turn on a few moments later as I stalked towards my room, determined to find a task for myself to keep my mind off of the inevitable.

Sookie was naked in my house.

Sookie. Naked. In my shower.... water pouring down her soft skin while the soap suds coated her, trailing down between her thighs...

I shook my head, trying to pull myself together. I didn't want to rid myself of that image completely, since it was a definite contender for the spank bank, but if I was going to find her something clean and warm to wear that wouldn't swim on her, I'd need to be able to focus, at least.

My task of finding her clothing didn't last nearly as long as I hoped it would -- the ideal time period being the length of Sookie's shower. After doing some digging, I found an old sweatshirt from freshman year that was once a favorite of mine, but after one too many spins in the washer, it had shrunk to where I could barely get it over my head. It was probably just small enough not to drown Sookie. Perfect. Except now I was left to my mind's own devious devices, which was never a good thing unless I had an empty house to myself, and a damp towel to clean up with afterwards.

I peeked out my bedroom door several times during Sookie's stint in the bathroom, only to be shunned each time by Missie, who was fluttering between each floor of the house like mad. Taking Sookie's clothes to the washer in the basement, running back up the stairs and digging through her suitcase to find her something to wear, and back again to check on the progress of her clothes. She only acknowledged me to grab the sweatshirt out of my hands, leaving me officially with nothing to do.

I wasn't one for sulking, but I certainly did my share that day as I walked off towards the third floor landing to wait in peace, my stalker-like tendencies kicking into high gear. Come on, I was sitting on the upper level of the house, waiting for Sookie to exit the bathroom. How creepy is that? Fucking creepy.

This girl was driving me mad. This was not normal Northman behavior.

I was pondering a Kantian theory about aesthetics to keep my mind off things and my hormones in a coma, when the sound of the bathroom door creaking open suddenly cut through my consciousness. Sookie was apparently looking for something, since she was creeping through the hallway on tip-toe, being adorable in her insanity. As ever.

I watched her with a broad smile across my face as she peeked into Burger's room and the linen closet, and then she hesitated before entering my room, as if she was expecting something on the other side. I cursed myself for not waiting in my room. No, I had to wait up on the third floor, being all creepy and voyeur like n' shit. Dammit.

Sookie disappeared behind my door a moment later, and I waited still, wondering what she'd do. When she didn't reappear on the landing after a few minutes, I finally stalked down the stairs and followed her trail through my bedroom door, only to find it empty.

Odd.

On closer inspection, I finally spotted her outside on the balcony. She was brushing her hair in the soft breeze, looking small and perfect in my sweatshirt and a pair of shorts that revealed the beauty of her long legs to the world. I assumed she was enjoying the view of the water, and approached cautiously, not wanting to disturb her, but for the life of me, not being able to stay away.

She stiffened when I reached the threshold, and I halted in my tracks, knowing I had been caught. Slowly, the hand that had been brushing her hair came down to place the comb on the railing, before she hugged both her arms to her chest, bending slightly to the chill in the air. Her shoulders were hunched, and she made no attempt to turn towards me, her body language screaming vulnerability and a need to be alone. But I didn't want to leave her alone. Ever. I couldn't stand to be away from her. The few strained and odd instances spent today in the house proved that to me, if last night and this morning hadn't already. I boldly stepped forward, being sure to make my footfalls audible while bringing my body closer to hers. With each step, her shoulders hunched more, the scared little mouse reverting in on itself. What was she running from? I never wanted it to be me.

As a test, I reached out my hand to her shoulder, placing it gently on the slope of her neck, and felt her shiver from the contact, unfurling her arms from around her side and bracing them on the railing in front of her. I could make out the pulse in her neck easily; it was beating frantically, her inner emotions betraying her hard outer shell. She hadn't recoiled from my touch, so I stepped closer to her, moving my hand down her arm to rest next to hers on the railing. Her pinky reached out to my thumb in an awkward kind of greeting, brushing it gently, and I smiled down at the simple gesture. Oh, how innocent we seemed.

With gained confidence, I moved closer still, though I was sure to not press myself to her, merely placing my hand on the other side of her on the railing. I lingered over her right shoulder, watching her watch our fingers interlace together, taking in any affection she dared to give me.

She smelled of moistened skin and natural sweetness, still pink and warm from her shower. As if on instinct, I turned my head into hers, breathing in the scent of her, mingled together with my shampoo. Smelling myself on her in any capacity was intoxicating, as if she were already mine. I smiled into her hair at the thought, while trailing my nose over the rim of her ear, all the while humming contentedly.

"You smell like coconuts," I told her, my voice sounding heavier than normal.

"Like you," she said, and I nodded, knowing she felt me next to her.

"It's all I could think of in the shower," she added a moment later in a small voice, and I stilled behind her.

"What?" I asked, careful to control my voice.

"The smell of the shampoo. You. Being with me, holding me... " Her voice trailed off as I felt her fingers disentangle from mine on the railing, her insecurity taking over again at her confession.

"I could hold you now Sookie," I spoke softly into her hair, inching closer to her with each word. There was no need for her to be insecure; she had to know, had to, that I wanted her in every way.

There was a second of hesitation before, with one long exhale, she finally leaned back into my chest, resting her head on my shoulder. My arms engulfed her not a moment later, molding her to my body, flush, full, and perfect. Together -- fuck, it felt great to even think it -- together we stood, vibrating in each others arms with the potential energy of this new feeling.

It was only when Sookie began to stir in my arms that I even tried to control the silly ass grin that was plastered on my face, not wanting to appear too pussy whipped in front of her -- even though I so fucking was. I released my hold ever so slightly as she curled her body further into mine, and turned her head towards my neck.

I did not expect what happened next, thinking that she was merely turning her body away from the wind. Sookie's hot little tongue darted out and licked the skin of my throat, tasting me, before she pressed her lips fully to my skin. My eyes rolled into the back of my head at the sensation of her kissing my neck. I wouldn't have been able to stop the low growl that threatened to escape my mouth if she continued, so I quickly placed my hands on either side of her face, and lifted her head up to look into her eyes. She stared questioningly back at me, no doubt wondering why I had stopped her.

"Sookie?" I asked her, needing to know if she wanted this. Really wanted this... this being the breaching of a barrier we had yet to cross. Sure, she dry humped me in my car, but kissing was different -- more intimate and intense. I had wanted to kiss her many times in the past months, over and over. She seemed to unknowingly call to me the need was so great, but in this instance she had to make that first move.

And she did.

She whimpered in my hands as she nodded vigorously at my question, before she threw her arms around my neck, and pulled my face down to hers. We swayed dangerously as I pressed her body to mine, feeling her, dragging my hands along her back and sides. Her tongue was betraying her lips, asking for entrance to my mouth, and I complied willingly. Finally. She tasted of mint and girl, and I turned my head to a more extreme angle, devouring her mouth with mine, needing more of her. She pressed just as furiously back, our need for oxygen discarded as we fed off each other with need and the pent-up sexual frustration of the past several months.

Sookie's leg was already trying to wrap around mine when I pulled her thigh higher over my hip, showing her how much I wanted her as I pressed my hips into hers. She moaned into my mouth at the action, and a growl really did escape me then, her mewls and whimpers igniting a fire within me. I scooped her up with both thighs around my hips, only to have her squeal delightedly into my mouth. Neither of us allowing the other to let go. I was becoming dizzy from the kiss, but didn't care; I'd happily forego air for the taste of Sookie any day.

I was starting to move back towards the doors of my room, as Sookie clawed at my back while hitching her legs higher around me, when I heard it... my fucking brothers down in the street.

"Woo hoo! Romeo getting his freak on!"

"I didn't know you had it in you, kompis."

They called and hollered and whistled up at us from the road below like fucking drunks at a baseball game shouting down from the nosebleeds. I broke the kiss to glare down at them as Sookie buried her head into the crook of my shoulder, her body vibrating around me with what I could only hope was laughter.

"Wow, did you see the the tongue action?" Burger commented, "Nice bro!"

"A viking never disappoints."

I was fully prepared to shout back at the douches, but two water balloons hit them square in the face a moment later, shocking them into silence. I heard, rather than saw, Missie's voice booming at them from the downstairs porch, and smirked deviously down at the two of them, looking like a couple of soaked street rats standing in the middle of the road. I didn't pay them a moment's more notice as I chuckled while stepping through the French doors of my room, with Sookie still wrapped securely around me.


	16. Chapter 16

"That pup is a douchenozzle. An adorable, cuddly douchenozzle, but still a douchenozzle," Sookie said over her coffee.

"I say this with love," she added a moment later after assessing the look on Missie's face.

"Technically, it's a douchenozzle and a whiznozzle," I pointed out astutely, coming to her aid. Sookie had been operating in an odd sort of daze since we had arrived in the kitchen, which was apparently affecting her brain filter. Not that I minded; I found her behavior to be adorable. Blunt Sookie was always entertaining.

"I'd say more of a whiznozzle than a douchenozzle, frankly," Ingmar interjected.

"Y'all need to stop saying douchenozzle." Burger had clearly shocked us all at this declaration, considering everyone snorted into their coffee mugs.

"Since when do you say 'y'all'?" Ingmar asked.

"Missie's a Texan at heart."

"So?"

"It comes with the territory."

"For her."

"And me."

"How?"

"Douchenozzle!" Sookie shouted, trying to stop the insanity -- her brain filter obviously still on hold. To our shock, the dog answered by barking at her. We all looked down at him with raised eyebrows.

"Oh no," I breathed.

"Douchenozzle?" Sookie said again, looking at the pup while she spoke. The fuzzy inferno barked back at her again, his tail wagging.

"Oh no, no, no..." I put my head in my hands, shaking it back and forth, while Burger and Ingmar started to laugh behind me. No. I was not owning a dog named Douchenozzle. "Don't say it again, please."

"Don't say what? Douchenozzle?" Sookie sassed with a cutesy smile that made me smirk despite myself, and to my horror, the dog barked yet again at the word.

"No shit, little man. You like that name?" Ingmar asked the pup.

The pissbag barked once in answer.

"Shouldn't Missie have a say in this?" I pointed out, trying to bring some reason into the conversation.

"Well, technically the little pup is staying here. I guess he should be named what he wants."

"You're folding that easily?"

Missie shrugged back at me in response before perking up and asking everyone, "Who wants more coffee!?"

What the fuck just happened? Did we just name the dog Douchenozzle? No, this couldn't happen; I wouldn't allow it. Though, currently everyone was looking so god damned happy sitting around the counter, with plates full of Burger's fuckawesome food, that I didn't have the heart to start an argument in the middle of it. Ingmar had relinquished his duties as "Swiffer Boy," as Sookie had called him, for some much needed carbs, and Burger was actually glowing. Seriously, if he didn't have a dick hanging between his legs, I would have asked when the due date was, because the man looked utterly euphoric.

I squinted my eyes at Missie, sizing her up. The last time I saw her, we were all in Cali, and she had been so weak-kneed around us, I hadn't even bothered to check for the pair of brass balls that she clearly owned. That tiny little woman had leveled my brother in one night? Damn. Nicely done, Miss Summers.

Then again, I had been pretty much leveled in one night as well. There was no way I could give my brother shit for being pussy whipped, and even though I wasn't beaming from ear to ear like Burger was -- no man could 'beam' with his pants this tight -- I was pretty fucking content; dare I say, happy. Sookie and I had come leaps and bounds since last night. Well, Sookie came; I had yet to give my ever-at-the-ready erection some relief, but the snake in my pants could wait. Being around Sookie in any capacity was (surprisingly) worth my chronic case of blue balls. Especially if she was going to be wearing my clothing, because... just damn, that was thoroughly appealing to me, my erection, and my blue balls on so many fucking levels.

I shamelessly watched her from my perch on the counter, feeling like a voyeuristic perv for the second time today. She was sitting on a barstool, her beautiful legs practically vibrating with energy as she drank her coffee and daintily ate her meal, smiling and humming every time she'd bite into a fork full of eggs or pancakes. I was happy she was finally getting some food into her stomach, but my satisfaction over her appreciation of the breakfast was wearing at my self control, since she kept on making little moaning sounds along with her humming. At one point, I found myself wanting to actually smack Burger upside the head for inadvertently eliciting such noises from her. I was already starting to consider myself the only person allowed to that privilege, so home-boy and his fucking biscuits better lay off.

My resistance to doing bodily harm to my brother continued to wear thin the more she ate. I blatantly seethed in Burger's general direction as he continued smiling like a tool at Sookie. The man had a good woman at his side and people enjoying his food, fucker was higher than Keith Richards on a bad day, and even my irrational waves of hatred weren't permeating that sick-happy, thick skull of his. It didn't help that every time Sookie would moan, he'd look over at me and wink. Burger obviously didn't know what kind of shit-storm he was brewing, so I decided to ignore him -- for the safety of everyone -- and let my eyes settle on a much more pleasurable image: Sookie wrapping her still slightly swollen lips around her fork. An involuntary shiver ran through my body at the sight.

Fortunately, Sookie didn't notice; she was too busy looking... relaxed? I couldn't exactly tell, since I had never seen her in a relaxed mood of any kind. She had always been in a constant state of stress mixed with some other emotion, depending on how she felt at the time, whenever I saw her. Her lean little muscles were always wound tight, like she had been. A coil ready to snap at any moment. It would have been slightly unsettling to see her so contented if my ego wasn't currently riding a boostified high because I had been the one to give her that look of utter calm -- complete with sexy bed-head and flushed cheeks. Go me.

I thought she'd probably want to get the fuck away from my brothers after the stunt they pulled out on the street while I was kissing her -- finally kissing her -- before on the balcony. If it weren't for Missie and her scarily accurate aim, they most certainly would have continued for as long as they could have. Subtlety was not a trait my brothers possessed.

When I felt Sookie vibrating around me, I could only dare to hope that she was laughing. After getting her inside the privacy of my room, with the French doors closed off to the sounds of Tweedledee and Tweedledum down in the street, I realized, thank Christ, that she was.

"Fuck," she exclaimed with a small smile, and my eyes widened with amusement. My little Sookie had a mouth on her, apparently. "I was having a nice moment there," she added, almost to herself, as she looked longingly out at the balcony.

I held back a snort. "Sookie, that was more than a nice fucking moment." My voice was unexpectedly intense, causing Sookie's cheeks to flush, and she buried her face back in the crook of my neck. She was such a contradiction. The grip of her legs around my waist was slipping, so I walked over to the bed and sat down, with Sookie's knees bending compliantly at my sides, and her cute little ass resting on my lap.

It was all quiet on the western front for about two seconds before Sookie sighed loudly into my neck and pushed back on my chest, righting herself in my lap.

"Ugh!"

I raised one very confused eyebrow, "Sookie?"

She wasn't climbing off of me, but she looked thoroughly pissed. I had no idea what to do with this girl and her mood swings, so I just sat, hoping she'd explain. She kept on looking back and forth between her hands -- she was wringing them together in her lap -- and the French doors, before she huffed again and looked up at me through her long lashes.

"That's the second time this morning," she said while shaking her head. She had a defeated smile on her face and I didn't like it. At all.

I cupped her face with my hands, "Sookie, what do you mean?"

"I don't know what I'm doing... I don't know..." she sighed, abandoning her explanation and looking down, with a grumpy little pout on her lips. In spite of myself, I smiled. She was adorable when she was grumpy.

Clearly, she was over thinking things again. Yes, my brothers had been assholes, but that was their job. Yes, the moment had been ruined, but I planned on having many more moments with her, in the very near future if she'd let me, so there was no point in sulking.

I lifted her chin with my finger and asked, "Sookie, forget the last two minutes. Forget my brothers. What do you want? Right now?"

Her gaze was darting everywhere, looking all around my face, except for my eyes. She was still analyzing, calculating, breaking down every last little detail; I could practically see the wheels turning in her head. The girl never stopped thinking. She wasn't letting go; she wasn't letting herself feel. She was getting herself so worked up with the what ifs running through her head that she was actually starting to shake. After about an agonizing 45 seconds of this, I sighed and took her head in my hands again, forcing her eyes to meet mine.

"Sookie," I said to get her attention. "What do you want?" I spoke softly, trying to reassure her and at the same time holding back a smirk, because she was being slightly ridiculous.

When her eyes finally locked with mine, I had my answer.

"You," she breathed, and then she wrapped her arms around me, pulling me to her lips. They were swollen and warm, and I brushed mine over them gently. This kiss was different from the one on the balcony; it was slower, with a deeper emotion behind it. She was tasting and testing, peppering kisses around my mouth before dotting them down my along jaw to my ear. I fisted my hands in her hair and breathed in the smell of my shampoo and her natural sweetness. That combination would never get old.

Sookie moaned into my ear as her hips rocked with mine; it seemed our bodies were taking over the motions that our heads were too clouded to even think about. But when Sookie bit down on my earlobe with a little mewling sound as she sucked it into her mouth, my body stiffened and my dick twitched. That wasn't soft; that wasn't gentle; that was raw, and fuck me, I liked it.

My hands were still fisted into her hair, and I gave it a little tug, pulling her head back to eye level with mine. She looked at with a sheepish grin, pressing herself down onto me with more force than before, circling her hips in the process. Her heat was everywhere, so much more than it had been in the car. I quickly realized that was because she was only wearing a pair of cotton shorts, and my eyes rolled back a little at the thought. Just a simple little bit of fabric lay between me and the promised land. Well shit, if she was going to grind on me, then I could explore a little bit. I kept eye contact with her as I let my hands drift down her back, over the contours of her shoulders, spine and hips, before I teased my fingers beneath the waistband of her bottoms, only to find bare skin beneath.

Fuck. Me.

I groaned at the feel of her soft skin, smooth and perfect to the touch. Sookie smiled shyly at my reaction before rocking her hips into me once more. She was teasing me, and I was fucking losing it. Enough of this seated position; I palmed her ass and picked her up, twisting us on the bed so that she was lying beneath me, while I hovered above her.

Her sly smile quickly disappeared, replaced with a look of pure heat as her chest heaved, her shallow breaths an echo of my own sudden panting. This was new ground we were breaking here. This wasn't just a kiss -- this was me and her on a bed, behind closed doors.

"Sookie?" I asked with warning in my voice. I wasn't going to push; this needed to be her decision. She looked indecisive for all of a second before she shook her head at me as if I were being ridiculous and pulled my face down to hers with desperate hands.

I was trying not to press my full weight on her, leaning on my elbow to one side while my other hand drifted across the soft skin of her stomach where her sweatshirt -- my sweatshirt -- had ridden up. Despite the fact that I was trying hard not to rub myself all over her, my erection was pressed into her left hip, and her constant wriggling beneath me was making it extremely happy, and me really fucking frustrated. I pressed my hand down on her stomach in a futile attempt to still her, but she just kept on moving her hips into me while pulling her legs up to curl around mine.

"Sookie," I growled into her mouth. "You're making this very hard."

Her lips pulled into a smile against mine, "I can feel that."

I groaned and broke the kiss, only to hear her whimper beneath me. Having Sookie on a bed, under me, was obviously a fucking glory to behold, and her new habit of grinding up on me was certainly something I didn't want to ever dissuade her from doing, but the words too fast kept on flashing through my mind. I didn't want this to be fast; I didn't want this to be hurried or something Sookie would feel awkward about later. Her decision to finally kiss me seemed monumental, so moving things forward so quickly might not be the smartest course of action.

Clearly, though, the girl was sexually frustrated. She was squirming and mewing like a cat in heat on the bed, practically begging me with her eyes to give her some kind of release. I didn't want to deny her that -- even if my own erection was entering the territory of 'agonizing' as opposed to just 'painful.' I could almost hear the fucker whimpering down in my pants to be let out. I didn't blame him; teenage hormones are no joke.

During my momentary lapse of concentration in which I was deciding what the fuck to do, Sookie arched her back, pressing her most definitely unrestrained breasts into my chest. I could feel her nipples through the fabric of my sweatshirt, and it wasn't helping my conviction one bit. I dropped my head down to the crook her neck and breathed, "fuuuck," into her skin. She merely shifted her hips closer to me in my moment of distraction.

My hand involuntarily slipped under the waistband of her shorts, allowing my fingers to graze along the skin between her hip bones before moving lower. It had obviously made the decision for us.

"Do you want this, Sookie?" I spoke into the skin of her neck, as I cupped her heat with my hand.

Her breathing hitched at the contact and her back arched further into me. She didn't answer; she simply nodded -- furiously I might add -- at the question. I sighed, while nibbling on her feverish skin. We can do this now, I told myself. I'd make this about her, and it'd be fine.

I pressed down with my palm on her clit as my fingers teased her lips, feeling how hot and slick she was. I cursed under my breath, the girl was so wet. She was also impatient, gripping onto my arm and pushing it further down, while her other hand clutched at my back, scratching and holding on for dear life.

"Shhh..." I breathed to try and still her.

"Eric," she moaned in response. It sounded like a plea.

I caved at the sound of my name falling from her lips and slipped a finger into her, giving her what she wanted. She gasped at the penetration, and for good reason; she was tight. I pumped in and out of her slowly before adding a second finger, only to feel her shudder from the sensation, all the while making sure her little bundle of nerves was getting equal attention from my palm and thumb. I was trying to keep this slow, but Sookie apparently had other plans. Her hips started to buck and thrust up into my hand with every pump I gave.

"Faster," she whispered into my ear before biting down on the lobe again. Jesus, did she have to do that? My cock was already crying -- or was that pre-cum? -- over its jealousy of my fingers, and her wicked little teeth were only making it worse. I didn't think the poor thing -- my cock, not Sookie -- could take much more teasing, so I complied and moved my fingers faster, curling them slightly on each inward thrust, hoping to find her sweet spot.

Her thighs were starting to tremble with her impending release and her little hands were clawing at me, at any place she could find. My arms, my back, my chest, my hair… she was frantic, all the while saying my name, "Eric," over and over as I worked her.

Sookie was coming undone beneath me; it was the most erotic thing I'd ever seen.

Her lips were parted and little pants and moans kept on slipping from them. They were wet and full, and I wanted to taste them, feel them against mine again. I pulled her bottom lip into my mouth and sucked on it gently as my hand worked faster within her. When she practically screamed into my mouth, I knew I'd found what I was looking for. I smiled into her lips and pumped harder, stroking her sweet spot on each pass. I could feel her starting to spasm around my fingers; this wouldn't take long.

"Sookie," I called, pulling her out of her daze. I wanted to really see her, all of her, when she finally came. Her lips were quivering as her eyes locked with mine. I didn't let up with my movements until I saw that I had her full attention before I pressed simultaneously down with my palm and up with my fingers, holding them in place...

She exploded.

The coil that she had kept wound so tightly snapped, and I could feel its effects reverberating throughout her body. She cried out my name as she spasmed over and over on the bed before her entire body went limp beneath me.

I had done my job well, apparently.

I smiled down at her, surprised by her in so many ways. She was panting and attempting to drag her hands lazily through her hair as I tried to get my own breathing under control.

Only when I noticed tears at the corner of her eyes did I start to panic. My hand shot out of her shorts like a firecracker out of a mortar. Shit, Christ, balls. What did I do? I immediately rolled my body off of hers, to the opposite side of the bed, and threw my hands up in the air... alarmed didn't cover it.

"Sookie, are you okay?"

My voice was tight and I sounded like the douchebag I most certainly was. Sookie sobbed out a half choke, half cry and started doing that thing girls do where they wave their hands in front of their faces: the universal sign for fuck, I'm flustered right now.

"No, Eric," she rasped out before sniffling and shaking her head more. "It's not you."

Shit, I hated that saying. Of course it was me. I finger fucked her, and she started crying. I knew we were progressing this relationship too fast. My erection whimpered at the thought of stalling, but clearly it didn't have to witness Sookie fall to pieces, or it would have kept quiet. Fucker didn't get to have a say in this particular situation.

"Then what is it?" I asked, sounding a little to the left of desperate.

She sobbed again, her breath hitching into a... snort? Wait, was that a laugh? A wet smile appeared on her face as she curled over towards me on her side, and her sobs turned into gasps for air as she laughed, nay, guffawed.

That was the only word for the way it sounded: a guffaw. Sookie was cracking the shit up on my bed, and I was still pressing my body up against the wall, staying as far away from her as possible, as if she had spontaneously started sprouting spores or some shit.

"Sookie, could you clue me in here?"

She stopped laughing for a second to stare up at me, her eyes dancing with amusement mixed with tears. It was the strangest expression I'd ever seen.

"I'm sorry," she snorted out. "I just... that was just..." her sentence trailed off as she shook her head and wiped the tears from her eyes. It was only then that she finally noticed my futile attempt to try and disappear into the sheetrock, and decided to chime in.

"Eric, why are you over there?" She looked confused, as if my particular behavior seemed strange to her. Ironic much?

I exhaled a breath I didn't know I'd been holding. "Why?" I repeated. "Sookie, you started crying."

She laughed again, except this time a fresh blush flooded her cheeks and she looked down at the bed, obviously embarrassed. "Yeah, I didn't expect that," she offered rather lamely.

I merely blinked at her. She didn't expect... yeah, nether the fuck did I.

"What?" she asked, still confused.

"Sookie, seriously? You're wondering why I'm over here? Jesus, I thought I hurt you. Give me some warning next time before you bring out the waterworks."

"I didn't know I'd start crying!" she retorted, suddenly on the defensive. "I didn't know it could feel... " she cut herself off and looked down again.

Oh no, you can't stop there, "It could feel..." I urged, a small smirk forming on my face despite myself.

She looked up at me from under her lashes, her mouth twisted into an indecisive pout.

"That it... couldfeelthatgood," she rushed out in a signal breath.

"Pardon?" I asked with sarcasm, cocky Eric rearing its still fully erect head.

"That good!" she spat at me while narrowing her eyes. "It was amazing, okay, and I had a weird reaction 'cause my body didn't know how to process something that good. There, I said it. You happy now?"

Happy? I was fucking beaming. Sookie's face was redder than a tomato, looking more adorable then ever, and I apparently hadn't hurt her -- thank Christ -- but instead just overwhelmed the poor thing with my amazing skills. Score one for the Viking.

"Don't get cocky, Eric," she scolded, obviously seeing the smug expression plastered all over my face.

I snorted at her statement and she huffed before lifting her head again to look at me, a question evident in her eyes.

"Wait, did you say, next time?"

My smug smirk turned into a full on grin, "Yes, I did."

"As in, there's going to be a next time?" Sookie looked frightened, amused and anticipatory all at once.

I shrugged with a false air of nonchalance. "Well, not now, but soon," I offered vaguely, giving her a lopsided smile.

I allowed her to process this sentence, timing it perfectly with the shade of red on Sookie's cheeks. Once they had reached the appropriate color, I decided it was time for a nap. "Now come over here and snuggle; I need to calm the fuck down. You had me freaked there for a minute."

"Eric Northman likes to snuggle?"

"Yes, he does. And considering you apparently cry after your orgasms, I wouldn't pass judgment on the fact that I like to spoon. Now, come 'ere." I grabbed her playfully by the waist and curled her into my side. I was dead-dog tired, both emotionally and physically. One morning with Sookie had almost broken me. I needed some sleep or this girl might very well drive me batshit by noon.

Sookie let out an adorable, self-conscious giggle as she settled herself next to me. She gave a small sigh when she finally got comfortable, and I buried my face in her hair, letting her scent wash over me. It was doing a damn fine job of lulling me to sleep, until Sookie decided to speak up a minute later, successfully bringing me out of my semi-conscious state.

"I dreamed about this once." Her voice was quiet and small, almost inaudible.

I picked up my head, clearly intrigued. I never knew she dreamed about me. It was an oddly comforting fact to know that I wasn't the only one.

"This?" I asked, wanting more explanation.

"Yeah. Lying with you in bed during the day. Being lazy for no reason. It was... nice."

I smiled into her hair and hugged her tighter to my chest, "Mmhmm, it is."

Our little snuggle-fest hadn't lasted nearly long enough before Burger started banging down my door.

"You lovepups have been in here for two hours makin' babies. I'm cutting you off for the day. I made a second batch of everything and Missie put on more coffee. Now get downstairs." We heard his footfalls slowly lessen before they came running back for a second go around.

"Sookie?" Burger asked gently through the door. "Please realize that I say this with love. Really, you'll need your strength if you want to..."

"Burger we're coming," I shouted groggily. "Now get the fuck away from the door!"

"Really? Right now? It's so quiet..."

"Burger!"

He snorted outside in the hall before we once again heard him heading back downstairs.

I groaned and shoved my face back into Sookie's now sexified bed-head. Her body shook with a quiet giggle at my cranky mood, but really, getting woken up like that is a bitch and a half.

When we showed up in the kitchen ten minutes later, hair mussed and clothes slightly askew, my brothers and Missie assumed the obvious. Well, obvious to them, not to us, but Sookie didn't seem to care, oddly enough, and the only thing I could focus on -- since I was still sleep-cranky and all -- was coffee. Sookie sat at the barstool and I hopped up onto the counter opposite her with a tired smile. At 11:32am, Sookie was finally getting the food I had promised her back in the parking lot of the B&B.


	17. Chapter 17

Missie brought my now freshly laundered clothes up from the basement about an hour after we had finished eating -- and by eating, I mean gorging ourselves on some insanely good biscuits, gravy, pancakes, sausage, popovers, and pineapple bread pudding. Seriously, my Gran would have been proud. Sweet Jesus, I must have gained five ponds sitting at that counter with those bottomless pits masquerading as boys next to me.

Oddly enough, I didn't care. Being around Eric was proving to alter my moods in many ways.

When Missie handed me my clothes, however, I looked down at them with apprehension, as if changing back into my jeans and sweater from yesterday would somehow erase what had happened this morning and afternoon. Of course, it's always nice to not have dog piss on one's pants, so for that I was grateful, but at the same time, I was happy in Eric's sweatshirt and Missie's shorts, and I didn't want to change. I felt loose and laid back (something I never felt...ever) and I wanted to keep riding that high -- that wave of calm Eric had brought me.

I had settled in so comfortably in his house, around his brothers, and with Missie that I had almost forgotten any and all of the reasons why I'd been nervous about stepping inside his front door in the first place.

When I came back out of my musings and looked around, seeing everyone's raised eyebrows at my lack of attention to the fact that Missie was handing me my freshly folded laundry, I gave a slightly self-conscious giggle and took it from her small hands with a quiet thank you.

The day was apparently over; there was no need to pretend anymore. I walked to the downstairs bathroom -- following Burger's directions -- with my head down, feeling silly and insecure. It was only when I felt Eric's warm hand at the small of my back that I looked up.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

I blushed furiously, not wanting to divulge my childish urges to hold onto what I now considered mine. Or at least hoped could be mine. Shit, I wanted it to be mine.

I shrugged, trying to convey an air of nonchalance, "I like your sweatshirt," I explained, hoping that would be enough. Eric, however, continued to stare at me with a skeptical look that clearly said he wasn't buying what I was selling. I sighed a sort of pained exhale and continued to explain reluctantly, "I just don't want this feeling to end."

I was speaking to the clothes in my hands, thumbing the button on my nicely folded jeans, when I felt Eric's other hand join its partner on the small of my back, and was pulled into his chest with a gentle yet surprisingly reassuring hug. I didn't stiffen; I didn't automatically think of retreating like I normally would have -- I just slumped into his embrace, nuzzling my face into the soft fabric of his shirt, calming myself with his natural scent.

He waited a moment, letting me still, before he spoke. "Sookie, I don't know if you realized this, but it was never my intention to let this end. And what makes you think I'm ever letting you leave?"

His tone was matter of fact, but I heard the amusement behind it. Still, he seemed rather serious, and despite myself and my need to not let his caveman tendencies slide, I smiled into his shirt, happy that the fabric hid my goofy grin. Then again, I guess the little happy shimmy/bounce that I involuntarily did probably gave away my reaction to his words.

"What are you doing?" he asked, a smile showing in his voice and his face as he pulled away to gauge my expression. I didn't let him see.

"Nothing," I responded with my head down, freeing myself from his grasp and turning around trying to hide the spring in my step as I practically skipped into the bathroom -- Sookie Stackhouse does not skip, mind you. "Gotta change."

I closed the door on him and heard a dramatic sigh a second later, with a hint of exasperation plaguing his sarcasm. I smiled at the sound. I didn't mean to drive him crazy, but my feelings just kept on riding this roller coaster of never ending insanity around him; I couldn't help it.

I dared a peek at my reflection in the mirror once I got my giddy breathing under control. My cheeks were flushed an embarrassing shade of pink, and my mouth was turned up into a megawatt smile that normally would make me look a little left of deranged -- which it did actually -- except right now, it was laced with another emotion: joy. I looked happy. Legitimately happy. Shit, I never look like this, I thought as I inched closer towards my image. I studied the brightness in my eyes and the dimples in my cheeks I didn't even know I had.

Fuck, I have dimples? Who the hell doesn't know that they have dimples? That's so... pathetic. I'm a girl, dammit! We're supposed to be vapid and know all of our facial expressions by heart from the years spent fake-posing in the bathroom mirrors with our hairbrushes and girlfriends at sleepovers. Right? Wrong. I had never done that, even though I'm sure Amelia would have enjoyed something along those lines. A 'girl night' and whatnot, but I never let her get close enough. I had always kept her at arm's length, along with everyone else.

My face fell into an expression of concentration as I thought back, trying to place the last time I had felt this good, this light, this content. I couldn't for the life of me remember a single time. When I realized that, I immediately chided myself for it. How dare I write off my Gran's kindness and love so easily? Of course I had felt joy in her presence, and had been grateful to her all my life. She was my sole confidante and played the role of both my parents. Certainly, throughout the years, I must have felt this happy with her -- at the holidays, or maybe on a birthday?

I thought hard, remembering the guilt that enveloped me every Christmas morning when my parents weren't at the bottom of the stairs greeting me in their flannel PJs. Instead, it'd be Gran with a cup of cocoa crammed with marshmallows bidding me Happy Christmas. I'd smile up at her, grateful for her love, but still missing my mother and father desperately. I would hide the pain behind my semi-genuine smiles throughout the day, feeling worse and worse that I couldn't be content with just Gran. It wasn't her fault at all, and she deserved my unconditional love, which in time, I learned to give.

And yet, here I was, standing in Eric Northman's bathroom with a true smile on my face for the first time in probably over a decade. I couldn't place a memory, but I was sure that I must have smiled like this while my parents were alive. Children were happy beings, weren't they? I'm positive these dimples had been shown to the world more than once. Or at least, I hoped they had.

A soft knock at the door roused me from my musings, and I stared at the wooden surface that separated me from him.

"Yes?" I asked hesitantly, wondering why someone would need this bathroom. Weren't there two more upstairs?

"Sookie?" Eric's voice was equally as hesitant in answer, and I rolled my eyes. Seriously, who else would be in this bathroom? He'd just seen me enter two minutes ago.

"Yes, Eric?"

"Are you alright?" I held back a laugh. He sounded so concerned.

"Yeah, why do you ask?"

This conversation was a little ridiculous to have through a bathroom door. I was contemplating throwing it open to speak to him face to face, but my thought process was interrupted by a sudden scuffle and muffled cursing, while Ingmar and Burger shouted through the door to me, "Don't worry, Sooks, we've got your six! We'll get this prick to give you some privacy," they called, before I heard dragging and kicking and more muffled shouts, mixed in with the laughter of the brothers fading into the background.

"Seriously, dude, let her have a minute, for fuck's sake," I heard Burger tell him off in the distance before a loud thud shook the floor beneath my feet, followed by a rough, low, "Fuck!" I snickered into my hand. Ouch.

I quickly dressed after that, foregoing the Freudian analysis of myself until I was back in my own home and pining. It'd feel more appropriate then. I could even drink heavily and smoke a pipe to complete the picture.

I slipped on my neatly folded panties with a serious blush flushing my skin. I have no idea why Missie insisted that she clean ALL of my clothing, but I did wonder if she had an inkling about what Eric and I would get up to. I hadn't even anticipated it, and yet, she had made it easier for Eric to do his... uh... DJ diddles on me by ridding me of my underthings. Contemplating the likelihood of that only made me blush harder, but the fact that she had actually folded my underwear was what boggled me the most. I didn't even fold my underwear. I did color coordinate and categorize it into sections in my drawers, but I digress.

My jeans felt extra soft as I pulled them up on my hips, and I wondered what Missie had done to make the denim feel this amazingly comfortable. I'd definitely have to ask before I left.

It was with a heavy reluctance that I pulled Eric's too-big sweatshirt off over my head and donned my bra and tank top. It was only when I grabbed my sweater off the counter that I paused right before I pulled the familiar, warm cloth over my head, staring down at Eric's sweatshirt draped haphazardly over the sink, instead.

"Hmm..." I mused.

\-------

Eric

I was nursing my sad, sore ass when I heard the door to the bathroom slide open. I shot up off the rug of the living room floor and desperately tried not to look like the tool who just got dragged by his hands and feet by his two brothers and then tossed onto his ass like a two-bit douche. I don't know how successful I was, because the second she rounded the corner into the room, I suddenly didn't care.

My brothers' immediate responses were to whistle. This did nothing to quell the rapidly growing grudge that I was forming against them both.

"Nice sweatshirt there, Sooks," Ingmar remarked, smirking at her. She blushed. I seethed.

What the fuck was it with my brothers making Sookie blush and moan today? Fuck. That was my job.

"Yes, I've always enjoyed it, considering it's mine," I retorted, putting emphasis on the last word so it would hopefully penetrate Ingmar's thick-ass skull. Translation: Don't even think about it, bro.

"Oh," I heard Sookie say as she dropped her head. More quickly than I could react, she turned from us and headed back towards the bathroom. Realizing, like an idiot, that my statement had been misinterpreted, I ran after her.

"Wait! No. I like you in it," I called, grabbing hold of her shoulders and pulling her body against mine. She tried to wiggle her way out of my grip, but I merely held her tighter. "Stop," I told her, wanting her to still and listen.

"You don't get to tell me what to do," she shot back. She sounded hurt and pissed, never a good combination, but I wasn't going to force her.

"Fair enough," I said, releasing her, but taking her by the hand to lead her down the hall, away from Tweedledee and Tweedledum behind us. The last thing I needed were those two hearing this conversation and ribbing me about it later.

The screen door to the back porch creaked open and banged shut loudly in protest as I led Sookie onto the deck. She followed silently, but once we were outside, she dropped my hand and turned from me again, folding her arms in the process. Her body language was screaming "fuck off," as if her tone from earlier hadn't already clued me in to her mood, but I was no longer going to allow her to close herself off from the world. I'd seen her open and accepting, natural -- the girl she always was, but was too anal to actually be.

"Sookie," I said, hoping to get her attention.

"I'm not angry at you, Eric," she stated plainly, confusing the fuck out of me. Who the hell was she angry at? I ran my hand through my hair with an exasperated sigh.

"You're not?"

"No. I just..." she stopped, huffed, and tried again. "God, you somehow fucked with my emotions."

I held in a snort. "How?"

"The... us... before..." she tried to explain while gesticulating wildly and motioning towards the second floor of my house. I smiled at her flustered attempt to speak; she was utterly insane and adorable all at once.

"Why?" she asked, turning around and staring up at me, looking like Bambi's blue-eyed cousin.

"What are you asking?"

"Why did you do it?"

"Did you not--"

"No, that's not it." she said, cutting me off, and shaking her head. "Ugh! I just feel... fuck, I feel crazy."

This time I couldn't hold in the snort; she cursed when she was flustered, moreso than when angered. I found that fascinating. But, the poor thing had to calm down. Jesus, she was even starting to stress me out.

"Sookie, you're thinking too much," I said, taking her head in my hands and raising her face to meet mine.

"But--" she tried to say, but I stopped her mouth with a quick kiss. It felt good to feel her lips on mine again. I'd certainly be kissing her more often from now on, so she'd better get used to it.

"Eric," she spoke against my mouth.

"Hmm?"

She didn't respond like I thought she would, instead she wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled me closer to her. I chuckled deep in my throat while hugging her tight. This particular way of ending difficult conversations worked for me just fine.

Sookie broke the kiss quicker than I had anticipated, and my lips involuntarily formed a ridiculous pout in the void that her mouth left between us. If I had looked in the mirror at that moment, I probably would have resembled a too tall Oliver Twist begging for food: Please ma'am, I want some more.

Apparently the discussion wasn't over?

"We were having a nice moment there," I said, as she stood before me, looking once again like a stoned Disney character, with her insanely dilated, questioning eyes. That was never a good look, it meant she was focusing too much on the insignificant details and freaking herself out in the process.

Even as I thought the inevitable, she started to curl herself away from me. I practically growled in frustration at her dismissal, and instead of letting her turn, pulled her tighter to my chest.

"Nope." I said, nipping that shit in the bud.

"Eric," she lamented, her eyes sad.

"Stop being embarrassed. I want you here."

"I'm not embarrassed, I'm just--"

"Analyzing the shit out of everything?" I asked while quirking an eyebrow to emphasis the question.

If I hadn't had Sookie wrapped up in my arms so tightly, I'm sure she would have stepped back and put her hands on her hips to tsk at me like a school teacher scolding a petulant student. I had no intention of letting her go, however, so all she could do was grimace a my teasing.

"Cocky much, there Northman?"

"Always," I told her as I leaned down for another kiss.

Before I could reach the promised land of Sookie's mouth, the screen door burst open with a loud bang, revealing Ingmar and Burger as they plowed through onto the deck. Missie was fast at their heels, trying to hold them back from interrupting us. I was beginning to like that broad more and more, despite the fact that the five foot nothing Missie was by no means a match for my both six foot plus brothers.

Such a pity, really.

"Jam session bro!" Burger shouted as he hoisted a mandolin I'd never seen before into the air. "Gotta break in the newbie," he said while giving Sookie a wink and patting the new instrument in his hand with reverence. Instinctively, I tightened my hold on my girl.

Ingmar decided to join in on the heavy petting by stroking the neck of the mandolin like he would his cock. Missie smacked him upside the back of his head, and Sookie actually snorted into my shoulder. I was slightly concerned for the state of my shirt, but other than that, I was utterly relieved. The fuckall stupid antics of my brothers had caused Sookie to forget her stress, if only for a little while. The soothing, if not slightly rowdy, musical talents of my brothers were no lie, she'd clearly benefit from such an experience. Jamming with them always helped me to calm down.

\--------

The sticks and leaves crackled and spit against the screen of the fire pit as we sat around the deck in comfortable silence. The only noise interrupting the calm came from the music our 12 strings made and the flames before us. I had given up my acoustic an hour ago so that Sookie could curl up in my lap, with her head resting on my chest, and was all the more contented for it.

I'd noticed her eyelids fluttering closed several times while she was perched across the porch from me, snuggled happily underneath a throw blanket Missie had produced from nowhere. I wasn't having any of that. Snuggling was one of my favorite pastimes, after all.

Laying my guitar quietly against my chair, I crossed over to Sookie's seat and nudged her gently, rousing her just enough so that I could slip my arms beneath her to scoop her up.

"What are--" she tried to ask, but I shushed her.

"Hush up and just snuggle with me, woman."

Sookie arched her eyebrow in response, but didn't argue, she just wiggled a bit to get comfortable instead. This was both a good and bad thing since she was sitting on my lap -- her shifting caused some seriously awesome and yet terribly unneeded friction considering our current surroundings.

Ingmar, Missie and Burger were all singing a horribly off key version of Moondance. They weren't being all too subtle with their intention either. My problem -- despite growing in nature -- was discreetly covered up by Sookie's bum and our now shared blanket, so I felt no guilt in interrupting the "performance" to start up a whispered conversation of our own as they howled:

Well it's a marvelous night for a moondance with the stars up above in your eyes. A fantabulous night to make romance, 'neath the cover of October skies...

While they all waggled their eyebrows at me and the (thankfully) oblivious Sookie in my lap.

I ignored them the best I could.

"So, tomorrow..." I prompted, giving Sookie a gentle squeeze. She nuzzled her head into my neck in response.

"I'll just assume you're listening with each nuzzle?" I asked.

Sookie nodded, and I told her of my plans -- which were basically non-negotiable -- to drive her wherever she needed until she felt comfortable in the Nova again. In my eyes it was a win/win, I only hoped she saw it that way too. She did stiffen slightly at the suggestion, but didn't disagree.

The sky darkened above us, my brothers continued singing like dying cats before us, and I couldn't help but smile. It'd been one hell of a weekend, but it was ending with Sookie in my arms, I really couldn't complain.

\-------

Sookie

Shit, I was nervous.

Really, really, ridiculously nervous.

I was so busy worrying about the what ifs that I actually zoned out while pouring myself a cup of coffee, and never stopped tilting the pot. I just kept pouring, burning my hand in the process. I shrieked at the top of my lungs from the searing surprise, scared the shit out of Terry -- who was sleeping underneath the coffee table for some ungodly reason -- and spilled the scalding liquid down my front, successfully ruining my freshly pressed shirt.

"Ugh!" I shouted as I vigorously shook my hand, trying to wring the hot droplets of coffee off of my now red fingers.

Terry came skidding into the kitchen not a moment later, wearing nothing but Gran's afghan off the back of the couch and a pair of socks, his normally gelled hair a mess of waves on his head. He looked like a haggard, blond version of Tom Cruise's Risky Business stunt double.

"Sooks, get down!" he shouted. I ducked instinctively at the order, but at the same time, pointed to my stained shirt and the spilled coffee on the counter to explain to him that my predicament had nothing to do with Iraqi soldiers. When he realized we weren't being attacked, he nodded sleepily, gave me a once over to ensure I wasn't harmed, poured himself a cup of coffee, and walked back out to the living room.

That man really needed to get himself a dog.

Trudging back up the stairs ruefully, I heard the unmistakable sound of the General Lee's horn blasting outside my house and dropped my head. I had forgotten that little detail.

Eric's Impala was fully equipped with multi-option horn honks, much to my dismay. Not only did the car shout out the General Lee theme, but also the banjo riff from Deliverance, and for some strange reason, the main harmony from Ice Castles.

Hearing Eric's car horn, however, meant two things: one, I was late and needed to get my butt in gear. And two, Eric driving me to school was going to become a reality in the very near future. The entire weekend I had just experienced wasn't a dream. Yes, I did fall asleep behind the wheel while driving home from The Nightmare on Cougar Street. Yes, Eric did save me, let me dry hump him while unconscious in his car, take me to his house, clothe me, kiss me, make me have the most intense orgasm of my young and pathetically non-orgasm-filled life, and on top of it all, he promised to chauffeur me around until I felt comfortable driving my own car again. More accurately, he told me he was going to chauffeur me around, and I let him have his way, since deep down, that's exactly what I wanted at that moment.

But right now, faced with the reality of the General Lee honk echoing through my house, I wanted to panic. Luckily, Terry shouted up the stairs at me before I could fully start to hyperventilate. "Sooks? There's a car outside with a... looks like a Viking sitting in the front seat."

"Yeah, he's a friend. Be down in a minute!" Terry was always nervous around strangers; establishing that new people were friendly was the fastest way to ensure that they wouldn't mysteriously show up tied to a tree somewhere two days later.

Focus, Sookie. Dirty shirt. Change now.

I grabbed the first thing I could spot: a slightly faded, dark blue, hooded sweatshirt that was draped over the back of my desk chair. I pulled off my stained top, threw it into the hamper, and ran down the stairs, tossing the hoodie over my head. I grabbed my bag and ran out the door without even looking at the mirror in the foyer to check my hair. If I had dared to look at myself and seen the panic in my eyes, I knew I wouldn't be able to step outside without being dragged by force.

Once on the porch, I stilled and closed my eyes, allowing myself time to breathe.

"Fuck me," I heard Eric rasp. My eyes shot open.

"Now?!"

He laughed, and despite the fact that the sound made me melt slightly, it still pissed me off. I hated getting laughed at. I folded my arms defensively.

"Sookie, you took me by surprise is all," Eric explained as he walked up the porch steps and enveloped me in his arms. "I just didn't expect to see this again so soon," he said, while tugging on the hood to the blue sweatshirt I was currently sporting. His sweatshirt. Sweet Jesus help me, I might as well have put a neon sign above my head. "I like it on you," he added with a smirk.

At hearing his comment I dropped my head and smiled into his chest. There was more meaning behind those words than just simple aesthetics, and I was unnerved by them. Eric took my chest nuzzling as as sign to hold me that much tighter. I did not relax my folded-arm-pissed-off stance, however, I did lean into him. I might have even sighed... a little. He was just so damn calming. I almost hated him for it, except that I was too addicted to the feeling already to let it go.

Not that I was ready to admit that. Not yet, anyway.


	18. Chapter 18

Being in the Impala with Eric again was calming in both an annoying and wonderful way. I wanted to have my wits about me when it came time for battle at the school parking lot, but that didn't stop me from shamelessly trying to soak up all the relaxation I could muster while in his presence. It didn't help that all I could think of while in the front seat, was having slept with him only a day and a half ago in that very spot. Not to mention, the little memory of me giving him a good grinding on his precious leather interior. That's not something I'd be able to forget easily or... ever.

I sighed heavily. Eric turned and gave me a tentative grin, "You okay?"

I nodded, my lips tight. I couldn't bring myself to speak, or I'd just spew verbal diarrhea, which I'm sure Eric wouldn't appreciate. He remained silent, but his uncomfortable posture told me he desperately wanted to keep on talking. This resulted in a rather tense car ride.

I sighed again, and I could practically feel Eric roll his eyes.

"Come on Sookie, what is it?"

"Nothing," I said, my voice small.

"You've never been this quiet in the entire time I've known you."

"Well, we haven't exactly been close for the past five years Eric."

"Yes, but you can be heard when you want to be. And you usually are. So what's with the silent treatment now?"

"I'm not giving you the silent treatment," I responded, somewhat shocked. God, out of all the people I would have to interact with that day, Eric was probably the only one I gave a shit about. Didn't he know that?

"Why'd you wear that?" He nodded his head in the direction of the blue sweatshirt. I groaned as my face fell into my hands.

"I spilled coffee on my nice top. I had very little time. I grabbed the first thing I saw."

"Oh." It was now Eric's voice that sounded small. That struck me as odd.

"Just... 'oh'?" I asked, wondering about his lack of response.

"Nothing, no... I just thought you'd worn it for..." his voice drifted.

"For... ?" I prompted, the amusement evident in my tone. Was Eric blushing?

"Just for a different reason," he stated with finality. His jaw was set, but I could see him struggling not to smile. This was all well and adorable, but I was not the type of girl who liked being claimed. At all.

"Eric, I'm not a possession of yours just because of what happened this weekend, get me?" My intention was not to be cruel, but I wanted to be clear. I had to be. Bill had tried to 'own' me. Claim me has his property, and I would not let that happen again.

The air in the car fissured with static tension the second I let those words slip through my lips. Eric's knuckles tensed on the steering wheel, but nothing changed in his face, he remained quiet. He turned into the rather busy senior parking lot not a moment later and time seemed to slow as the school, and all of its inhabitants, came into view.

Eric and I both cursed under our breaths.

"Shit, is everyone here early?" I asked, amazed. Why the fuck was everyone on time today? Was karma out to ruin me? Every single person's head turned as Eric pulled into his normal space two rows into the crowded lot. That meant that we had to walk three rows worth of double lined cars to get to the doors of the high school. Fuck, I hadn't thought of that. Of course, I'd agonized over how things would go today, but the whole "walking" thing oddly didn't enter into my mind until I heard Eric cut the engine.

The Theater of the Absurd proudly presents: The Awkward Social Practices of High Schoolers. Staring: Eric Northman, Sookie Stackhouse and a bunch of fucktards.

Act I, Scene I

Show time.

I couldn't even count how many pairs of eyes were on us. The only person I actually registered was Pam, who smiled at us knowingly. For some reason, it was comforting.

I dropped my head after two agonizing seconds. I couldn't bear to look any longer. Eric's hand found mine on the seat and gave me a reassuring squeeze before I heard his door click open and snap shut. I didn't even get a chance to return the sweet gesture. My door opened a moment later.

Eric was holding my door open for me.

Eric was being a gentleman.

Eric was holding out his hand to me, being perfect, in the high school's parking lot, and I was wearing his sweatshirt.

Sweet Jesus, I can't do this, I thought, as I looked up into Eric's face. I wanted to tell him to get back in the car and drive us back to his house so we could eat some more of Burger's fabulous food and spend another lazy day in his room. I wanted to grab his hand and pull him back into the car so I could curl myself around him in the front seat again.

I wanted to run.

But I didn't. Instead, I took Eric's outstretched hand and stepped out of the safety and security of the Impala, and into the frigid air of the day. The cold wind seemed to be another harsh reminder that my weekend with Eric was officially over, and that the tough part of this... thing, whatever it was that we had, started now.

I shivered slightly from the chill. I hadn't counted on being that cold, or I would have worn a jacket. I was very grateful for Eric's too large, extra comfy sweatshirt all of a sudden.

Eric released my hand and brought both of his up to my face. I panicked for a second, thinking he was going to kiss me in front of the entire school. I didn't know if I was ready for such a PDA yet. I didn't know if I was ready for any of this, so jumping in head first wasn't exactly how I would have handled the situation. But his hands went past the sides of my face and reached back towards my hood. He pulled it forward over my head, and tugged on the strings slightly to keep the wind from lashing at my ears and neck.

Aw, shit. I blushed furiously at his affections. My arms itched to wrap themselves around him. My toes wiggled, my hands shook. Why was it so hard to reciprocate?

I settled for breathing out a "thank you." He smiled down at me, and we turned to walk up to the school's entrance.

"Mr. Northman?" A teacher, whose name eluded me, called to Eric the exact moment we had found some common ground. My fragile bubble of momentary calm shattered, and all eyes and whispers came into sharp focus.

Eric cocked his head to the side in question as the too-tanned woman sidled up to us. She gave Eric a sickly-sweet smile that really didn't sit well with me. If she had been a student, I would have punched her out-right, but alas, she was a teacher, so I held my tongue, my temper, and my fist.

"Miss Stackhouse, you may head inside. You don't want to be late for homeroom, now do you?" She asked, all condescension and high heels. I gave Eric an apologetic smile before awkwardly parting from his side. I didn't know the procedure. I felt some sort of physical contact was in order, but a handshake seemed too little and a hug seemed too much. Fuck. I hated being so analytical sometimes. The smile would have to do as the woman continued to shoo me the longer I lingered.

Pam met me at the doors, her eyes dancing with amusement. That shit was rare, so Eric and I showing up together must be juicy gossip indeed. I groaned inwardly.

"What's the word on the street?" I asked her.

"That you two have been dating for months, but are just now 'stepping out' together. As it were," Pam explained, gesturing back towards the parking lots, and the now absent Eric and Too-Tan Teacher Lady.

"Months? Where'd they get that time frame?" I shoved the hood off my head and smoothed down the nonexistent frizz of my hair, infuriated.

"Months normally means two. Two months is just long enough in high school time for the girl to start wearing her boy toy's clothes. The fucking like bunnies part of your relationship has switched over to 'love making' and snuggling post-coital. Hence, the clothes stealing." Pam waved her hand at the sweatshirt I was wearing, as if its very existence explained everything she had just said.

If only.

"How do you know this? Haven't you been in school in France for the past two years?"

"Oui. But it's essentially the same. We just fuck more in the French school systems."

"Of course," I sassed, attempting to hide my bug eyed expression, not that it mattered. Pam had switched her focus to her phone and a new text message she had apparently received. Her ennui laced expression was firmly back in place, signaling the end of the conversation.

"Bonne chance mon ami," Pam trilled behind me as I left her in my wake. I'd had enough of that particular conversation, and I wanted to figure out why Eric was escorted away from me back in the parking lot.

I walked into homeroom cautiously, very aware of any and all eyes on me. I gave the room a quick scan as I sat down in my seat and noticed one blatant thing missing from the objects, inanimate and human, around me.

Eric.

What the hell?

We had a sub for homeroom. Another odd occurrence. I didn't understand the need to pay a substitute teacher to take roll call. That's just a waste of the tax payers' money, in my opinion. The young girl banged a gavel on her desk to bring the classroom to order and then started to shout out our names one by one.

Bueller, Bueller, Bueller...

Eric never came to first period. I didn't see him in the halls either, which was discouraging since he was incredibly easy to spot, being practically a foot taller than everyone else. By the time lunch rolled around and I hadn't glimpsed one scrap of his leather jacket, or flash of his blond head, I had officially become paranoid.

I'm a girl. I'm insecure by default, and my irrational, over-analytical mind could only assume that I was being rejected. Crap.

I had a free period before Bio. Apparently, something had occurred in the gym over the weekend. They had the entire thing on lockdown, complete with cautionary tape. I couldn't bring myself to care, and nor could anyone else. No one looked forward to that torture.

Amelia found me outside the gym doors and practically tackled me to the ground with excitement. She had news to spill, and an entire 45 minutes to do it in, unfortunately. I let her talk. It kept my mind off of everything else, and as long as she was gushing about her current hook-up, she wouldn't care about the Eric rumors. When the bell sounded, she hadn't even mentioned his name once. For that, I was grateful.

Free of Amelia, I found myself laughing as I trudged on to final period. It was a cold and cynical laugh, one of defeat. I never had anything to be worried about. Aside from a few overheard whispers and plenty of fucktards staring, the day had been normal. Right down to Eric not being apart of my daily routine. I shouldn't have cared so much this morning. Clearly, it didn't matter.

"Ugh," I sighed as I plopped into my seat in Bio.

"Charming," Pam commented, noting my rather inelegant entrance.

"Where the hell is Eric?" I asked to no one. Pam answered.

"I've been asking myself that same question."

"He hasn't gotten ahold of you?"

"No, Sookie, why would he? We're not pen pals."

"I just thought--"

"You assume too much."

"Maybe his brothers know where ran off to. Do you have their numbers? You could text them and ask." Sweet Jesus, did I sound as desperate as I thought?

Pam raised an eyebrow at me, I arched one back. Eric did that too, and often. I wondered whose habit it was originally. Pam and Eric shared many similar mannerisms. Why had I only just then realized it?

"Well, do you?" I asked again. We were supposed to be reading up on vocabulary terms for a test the next day. I couldn't bring myself to care.

"I don't know his brothers." Pam turned her book open to the page written up on the chalkboard and pretended to read. I followed suit, assuming the conversation had been dropped. But being me, I couldn't give up that easily. I let two minutes pass in silence before daring to ask her again.

"So wait, you've never met his brothers? Ever?" Seriously?

"No. Why do you think that makes any difference?"

"Because, you two--"

She cut me off. "Our relationship was strictly sexual, Sookie. Family doesn't enter into that equation." She spoke with a definite finality to her words. It was obvious that she didn't want to discuss it. Pam never discussed anything. To her, it was waste of time.

I nodded back at her, stunned, and dropped the subject. Silence followed.

Of course, the silence allowed me to ponder on what I'd just learned. I couldn't help but compare it to my own experiences with Eric. This led me into dangerous territory...

One night in a car with Eric and he willingly took me to his home to meet his brothers, he barely let me leave, and insisted that he drive me to school until I was comfortable behind the wheel of my own car again. It didn't explain why he'd disappeared, but all of those things occurred in the span of two days. In a span of two years, Pam had never once met his brothers. This news boggled me, and at the same time, made me inadvertently smile. That shred of triumph disappeared, however, the moment it hit me of what Pam had just said: strictly sexual. I shuddered at the thought. I knew Eric was experienced -- extremely experienced -- but it's easier to swallow that information down when you're not sitting next to, and conversing with, one of his past conquests.

Not only that, but I was pretty sure Pam and I had developed a somewhat friendly relationship. Being around her no longer made me want to vomit out of sheer anxiety, and when she linked her arm with mine, her talons no longer dug into my skin in a threatening manner. In fact, I think she actually enjoyed the physical contact. These were large strides considering that at the beginning of the year, the very sight of her made me want to run behind the nearest trash can or water fountain that would hide me.

Instead, we sat side by side with a shared history of a man between us.

I shook my head and laughed again. One short "ha" of an exhale. It didn't matter. I had to keep telling myself that.

I also had to keep my rather active imagination in check. Imagining what Eric and Pam had done together was making me feel uneasy. Eric would say I was over thinking. Technically, the "shared" experience I had with Eric was pitiful compared to what he and Pam had probably gotten up to. Instead of soothing me, though, that thought just drove my blood pressure up another notch.

I crossed my legs under the table.

"Fuck," I cursed as I dropped my head into my hands. I couldn't stop thinking. I couldn't stop the images, the assumptions, the possibilities. Pam was feisty and could scare the shit out of the most hardened of men, which probably translated to someone insanely adventurous when it came to sex. She was scared of nothing, willing to try anything... Jesus. She was also controlled and terrifyingly calm most of the time; no doubt saving energy for when it mattered most.

I shook my head, desperate to stop the onslaught of torture I was inflicting upon myself. It took me several minutes to realize Pam was speaking to me. I kept my head down but answered her with a small, "hmm?"

"Do you have a headache? Or an ailment of somekind that's making you curse at the table?"

"No," I groaned.

"Well, then, could you stop?"

I didn't answer. I just raised my hand into the air, desperate for the teacher's attention. I needed to get out of the classroom before I screamed.

To my abject horror, Pam was chosen to escort me down to the nurse's office since my face looked "deathly pale" and, therefore, worrisome. I supposed Miss Des Artes thought I had swine flu, or the bubonic plague. I didn't dissuade her from thinking such ridiculous things. I wanted to get out of that stifling classroom. What I didn't want, was to get out of the classroom with Pam at my side.

"We didn't mean anything to each other," Pam said with a huff, the moment we reached the nurse's office. Her hand was resting on the handle, preventing me from plowing through the door and shoving my face into the freezer box with the ice packs like I wanted. Instead, I stared at her perfect nails and elegant, long fingers, wondering what they were capable of.

Fucking plenty, I presumed.

"Sookie?" Pam asked, in a bored tone. "This pale faced, quiet act is getting old."

I gulped, trying to quell my anger. This wasn't her fault. I was being irrational. I needed to calm down.

"Why do you think I care what you meant to each other, Pam? You probably haven't even seen the inside of his house, have you?" My voice was harsh. Shit, I sucked at staying calm.

Pam smiled at me and folded her arms. She had stepped back from the door. I watched her for a moment, wondering if she was going to smack me for being the bitch I was, but she didn't, she just... waited.

My stomach turned. I ran into the nurse's office and slammed the door behind me, before spending the rest of the day with my head in the toilet bowl. The nurse suggested that I look into anti-anxiety medication after I was finished embracing the porcelain.

"Why? I just ate something bad at lunch," I lied.

"Sure you did sweetie." She patted me on the top of my head, which really annoyed me, and sent me on my way with a saltine cracker. Sweet Jesus, how obvious was I?

The school bells had sounded, but my day was far from over. I walked to the senior parking lot alone, trying to search out Amelia, but figuring, for the most part, that walking home would do me some good. I needed the fresh air.

Sookie Stackhouse is feeling vulnerable and abandoned, cue Bill Compton's entrance.

"Sookie!" I heard him call over the crowd. That was the only part of him that could reach over the crowd. Bill was a mere 5'8".

I halted in my tracks, balling my fists. I really didn't want to deal with him just then. I whirled around, using my hair to its best advantage, and started to lay it into him that I wasn't in mood, but the General Lee's horn blasting behind me. I paused, mid-tirade and spun back around, only to see Ingmar's Jeep come swerving around the corner.

Did all those boys have silly horn honks on their cars? What is it with guys?

"Sooks!" He shouted with a gleeful smile. I managed to smile back, but Bill snorted in sarcastic disbelief behind me.

"Got something to say Billy?" I shot over my shoulder.

"No, nothing."

"Good." I started to walk towards the jeep, when I heard it.

"You just work fast, is all."

Oh, no he didn't.

Ingmar was staring at me with a confused expression. He hadn't heard Bill, but he did see my rage. I had just been smiling two seconds earlier, so I'm pretty sure it was safe to say that Eric's brothers probably thought me insane. Ingmar was standing and leaning over the frame of his open Jeep, waiting. I held up a finger, signaling that I needed a minute. He nodded and slumped back down in his seat.

With a strained patience, I focused my attention on Bill, once again.

"That's a wicked double standard there, Compton. Tell me, how many of those skanks trailing behind you like lemmings have you fucked?"

Bill's face stiffened before he turned ever so slightly to see his entourage of brainwashed Betties pressing in on him.

After an appropriate amount of time had lapsed for the entire parking lot to catch onto the fact that Bill and I were glowering at each other like a couple of gunslingers, and the tension in the air had turned right thick and was awkward as fuck, I decided to break the silence. Well, that was the plan, before Pam broke it for me.

"Right. So glad we all had this chat," she said in a flat tone. She had materialized out of nowhere. "Sven, Olaf or whatever your name is, I'll take it from here," she exclaimed, motioning towards Ingmar.

Pam -- as she always did -- linked her arm with mine, and turned us towards the direction of her car, fully prepared to walk away from Ingmar without so much as a goodbye.

"Ingmar," he called back at Pam. She paused and pivoted on her heel.

"Come again?" she asked, not sounding the least bit interested.

"My name, it's Ingmar."

"Charmed," she said, dismissing him while leading me up to the passenger side door of her beemer. I shrugged back at Ingmar who was leering at Pam like a hungry dog would a bone.

I sighed inwardly. Things had just gotten slightly more interesting.

\-------

Ingmar followed us in his Jeep, whistling as loud as he could every few minutes, hoping to keep Pam's attention. It was pretty much freezing out, so why both Pam and Ingmar had decided to drive with their tops down, was beyond me. Those two together would be a force of nature. I wondered what Eric would think about them as a pair?

Each time my mind drifted towards thoughts of Eric, the knife of paranoia twisted a bit deeper inside of me, spurring my ire. Why had Ingmar shown up to the school lot in the first place, anyway? Where the fuck was Eric?

My phone buzzed in my lap. Startled, I looked at the number, confused. It was unknown.

"Hello?"

"Sooks!" I heard Ingmar shout at me from both his own car and through the receiver. Great.

"How the hell did you get this number?"

Ingmar laughed. "Magic, chica."

I didn't bother responding. Ingmar continued. "Head to the Inlet."

"Why?"

"It's why I came to pick you up. Eric's there."

"What's with the theatrics? Why didn't he come pick me up?"

"Just go to the inlet little lady, Eric will explain." The calm and sweetness of Ingmar's voice sounded forced, but I didn't bother calling him on it. I couldn't stay angry at Eric's brother. He'd done nothing to warrant my spite, so I turned my head to wave at him and nodded my agreement.

"Head to the inlet." I told Pam. She didn't respond verbally, but simply did a U-turn in the middle of Main Street without even looking and headed back towards the ocean. Ingmar followed suit with a "Woohoo!" behind us, as he turned. I shook my head with a small smile. Eric's brothers were characters for sure.

I spotted Eric the moment we turned into the Inlet's parking lot. He was slumped against the side of the Impala, arms crossed and head down. He didn't look happy. At all. Even his legs seemed tense. The anger I had for him died immediately as my chest constricted with concern.

Pam stopped the car and I jumped out. Eric wasn't even wearing his jacket. He must have been freezing. What the hell happened to cause him to go all emo?

I should have approached this situation with some sensitivity, some tact, some class. But no, I was me. So, naturally, I opened with, "Where were you?"

I grimaced at my blunt question, but Eric didn't seem to notice or care. He answered anyway.

"Some kids started a small fire in the gym. Nothing big, just fucked up some of the bleachers."

I tilted my head, confused. Why was this relevant? "Why--"

"It wouldn't be much of a problem if it weren't for what they were smoking at the time." Eric continued as if I hadn't begun to speak, but I listened, regardless.

Light bulbs started going off in my head.

"I'm assuming they weren't normal cigarettes?"

"Yup." Eric nodded.

"What does this have to do you with you?" I wanted to reach out to him in some way, but didn't know what would be appropriate, considering his body language. He didn't look very much like he wanted to be touched. I shoved my hands in my pockets, instead, and tried to quell my want to be closer to him.

"It's got nothing to do with me, except for the fact that I'm being blamed for it."

"What?"

"They think I sold the shit to the kids who got fucked up and started the fire."

"The shit?" I quoted in a quiet voice.

"Opium."

"Opium?" I blinked. I thought he was talking about pot, or something harmless like that. I didn't know much about drugs, but opium was addictive and people could OD on it, couldn't they? Isn't that how the grandmother died in The Joy Luck Club? But why were they blaming Eric?

"It tastes like purple," Eric said with a humorless laugh, bringing me out of my internal ponderings.

"You sell--" I tried to ask, but Eric cut me off.

"No, Sookie, Jesus."

"Sorry!" Crap, I really sucked at displaying sensitivity. I regrouped, and took a deep breath. Eric was never short, or easily angered, so the fact that he was snapping meant a lot. I didn't blame him in the slightest. At least this explained where he'd been all day, not that that mattered now. I suddenly felt like shit for writing him off like I had.

Eric was right, I did think too much.

"So, that tan teacher? She told you all of this in the office this morning?"

"Yup."

"Is that why you weren't at school?"

"Yup."

It had been an obvious question, so I didn't expect much of answer, even though I'd wanted one. I was skirting around the main issue, trying to poke at its heels.

"Eric, are you sus--"

"Suspended? In a fuckton of trouble? Banned from school property? Yup."

Shit.

\-------

Eric

Two seconds into the school day and some faculty member, with skin resembling cured leather, was dragging me away from Sookie by her fake acrylic nails. Already? I hadn't even gotten to see Sookie's blush in homeroom, or enjoyed kicking Sam out of his seat next to her in first period, so that I could reassign myself to be by her side. I had wanted to sneak up on her in the hallways and wrap my arms around her, just to see her reaction. I was going to take her out to lunch, or at least drive her back to my place for a burger, grilled by Burger. I had plans, dammit.

Worse, Sookie's lack of reaction to me being carted away. She seemed hesitant to touch me and, therefore, I left her without so much as a handshake. Seeing the space grow between our bodies actually hurt, as if there was a pulling in my chest, willing me back towards her.

Fuck, I was in deep.

And apparently, I was also in deep trouble. That's how Miss Raw Hide put it when she glowered at me the second we had entered the school's main office. She was in the safety of her own realm, and I had left mine.

Let the power tripping begin.

I was left in her office for ten minutes before anyone bothered to check on me. I listened as the bells for homeroom and first period rolled by and sighed, knowing my plans would have to wait. I didn't know then for how long, but when the gym teacher, Mr. Bellefleur walked into the room, flexing his muscles, and shot daggers at me with his eyes, I figured it'd be a while.

"There was a fire in the gym over the weekend, Mr. Northman."

I looked back at him with little to no emotion. Why the hell was this important to me?

"Was anyone hurt?" I asked out of common courtesy.

"No! Thankfully!" he shouted.

There was a vein in Mr. Bellefleur's neck that pulsed red each time he looked at me. I found myself wondering about his cholesterol levels.

"Then why are you so angry, Mr. Bellefleur?"

"Are you baiting me?"

"I don't know what I'm doing. Why am I here?" I was dead serious too.

Mr. Bellefleur slammed his hand down on the messy desk. I heard something else besides flesh make contact with the surface, and watched as Mr. Bellefleur pulled his hand back, pointing at the package he'd left behind. A bowl. No, not a china bowl that you'd put milk in for a kitty to lap at, but a bowl you'd pack with weed and take hits from.

I stared at it blankly. "Look familiar?" Mr. Bellefleur asked. My eyes shot up to his.

"No."

"No?" His eyes narrowed, and a smile played at the corner of his mouth.

"No. And what does this have to do with the fire?"

"Two kids were found outside the grounds, passed out in the grass after the damage had been done. They had this in their possession. Among other things."

"Passed out?"

"They were wasted, Mr. Northman."

"And what does this have to do with me, Mr. Bellefleur?"

"They said you gave them the... the--"

"Bull. Shit," I drawled out, crossing my arms and leaning back in my chair. No fucking way.

"Let me finish!"

"Mr. Bellefleur, I don't deal. I never have. What makes you think I would?"

"Your past history of neglecting to adhere to the rules makes me think you're a target for dysfunctional behavior. The boys told me it was you. And I've heard from another source that you partake in such seedy behavior. I believed them."

"Just like that? The accused doesn't get a say?"

"Not this time, he doesn't. You've skirted around the edges of the law one too many times, Mr. Northman, we're suspending you till we can get a firmer grip on the situation. Effective immediately. And don't even think about stepping foot on these school grounds again. The cops will be on your ass like white on rice."

"What the fuck!?" I couldn't believe it. Was he serious?

"Don't raise your voice at me," Mr. Bellefleur seethed, pointing at me with contempt. "People could have been hurt. Thousands of dollars in damages have occurred. You're lucky it was just a few bleachers that got burned and nothing else!"

"I can't believe this, you're suspending me on an accusation? From two tripped out kids who were scared and probably looking to dodge trouble? Are you fucking serious?"

"Enough with that language Mr. Northman. Do not make me call the cops." he warned. I wanted to laugh in his face, but held back. Not that it would have been out of amusement, but bitter resentment. Everyone knew Mr. Bellefleur's brother was a cop, and that he threw his weight around like no other. I leaned back in the hard, plastic chair I'd been sitting in, and waited for him to continue. Mr. Bellefleur, sensing that he'd gained the upper hand, cleared his throat, and continued.

"We've already confiscated the contents of your locker. We--"

"What!?" I pushed the chair back with my legs and stood to my full height. Mr. Bellefleur grew small beneath me.

"Standard procedure. Why so guilty? Got some more opium stashed there?"

"Opium?" I blinked. What the hell? I'd only smoked that stuff once. It was way too tasty to try again. Burger was a fan, but didn't deal it. It was a recreation to him, not a paycheck, and there was no way we kept it around on a regular basis. That was a decadent drug. Something Burger would smoke when he was feeling nostalgic for the olden days and wanted to walk around with a monocle and a top hat attached to his head.

I never said my brother's weren't eccentric.

I blinked again, rearranging my thoughts. I wasn't being given any say in this situation. This wasn't a meeting, this was a sentencing being dolled out. "So that's it? I'm out until you idiots realize that none of this shit is actually my fault?"

"That's how it looks, Mr. Northman." Mr. Bellefleur was smiling like a fool with his hands on his hips and his gut stuck out past his waist line. The buttons of his shirt strained against the fabric as he puffed out his chest in a sign of triumph. I wanted to stick him with a needle and see if the fucker would pop.

The Fucker in question pressed a button on the phone on the desk. "Mrs. Reynolds, please come escort Mr. Northman from the building." He then turned from me, as a sign of dismissal, "We'll be in contact Mr. Northman if we hear anything."

I stood there for a moment, wondering about how much more trouble I'd be in if I took Mr. Bellefleur's desk and smashed it over his head. The symbolism would be complete when he'd think back later and realize his desk had been purchased at an Ikea. But I didn't follow through on my urge. I didn't even spit a 'fuck you' at him. I simply folded my hands behind me and walked out the door, quiet and seething.

I shrugged off Mrs. Reynolds sympathetic attempts to walk me to the front door. I knew my way, and her melancholy smiles were getting to me. Apparently, I had someone on my side, but it didn't matter. Mr. Bellefleur was on an ego trip and had finally found something to pin on me that he thought would stick. The last thing I wanted was to stick around and give him the satisfaction of seeing me lose my shit.

\-----

"Eric! Bro, I just got a call from the school. What the fuck is going on?" Burger shouted at me through the phone as I flew down Main Street towards the coast in the Impala.

"What did they tell you?"

"That they're blaming you for fire damage in the gym. Kompis, did you actually start a fire?"

"No, Burger. Fucking hell."

"Didn't think so. They said it happened over the weekend, and you were with Sookie the whole time," he said more to himself than to me. I didn't respond. I'd been so fucking happy the day before, I didn't need to be reminded. "So, what really happened?" Burger asked in void of my answer.

"They're blaming me for dealing drugs to the kids who actually did it. They were fucked up at the time."

"What kind of fucked up shit is that? You don't deal, fuck, you don't even smoke."

"I know this, Burger," I sighed. I was tired of talking. "I'm gonna be at the Inlet. Can someone pick up Sookie? She's stranded with no car, and I'm not allowed on school grounds." I rolled my eyes at the last bit, as if I were an actual danger to any of the students. That damn school was run by a bunch of incompetent asshats who thrived on dramatics to get their kicks.

Burger agreed to either get Sookie at the end of the day, or put Ingmar on the job. I nodded into the phone and hung up, no longer interested in conversing with anyone, not even my brother. I wanted peace. I wanted quiet. I wanted to not be blamed for shit I didn't start.

I rolled down the window and let the cold sea breeze wash over my face, flinging my hair in all directions. Breathing in deeply, I realized, that for the first time, in a long time, I felt home sick for Sweden.

\--------

Burger was true to his word. Ingmar and Pam drove into the Inlet's lot six hours later, totting Sookie with them. Sookie looked frazzled and small in the front seat of Pam's beemer, it worried me. She jumped out the moment the car skidded to a stop and practically sprinted towards me, but she halted a few feet away from where I stood, breathing heavily and looking torn. I inwardly cursed. The comfort level we'd found this weekend around each other seemed nonexistent today.

I'd never admit this to anyone, but what I really wanted after seeing Sookie jump out of that car with concern in her eyes, was a fucking hug. So when she rocked on her heels and started asking me questions with her hands shoved in her pockets, my emo-meter shot through the roof. I was two seconds away from applying black eyeliner, donning a pair of Misfits gloves, and cursing the world. Dammit, I was too level for this shit.

I responded to Sookie's questions the best I could, and I tried not to snap, but my patience was frayed. Sookie, please, just touch me, I begged her in my head.

"Eric, are you sus--" Sookie attempted to ask, but I cut her off.

"Suspended? In a fuckton of trouble? Banned from school property? Yup." I kept my head down, angry and slightly embarrassed. This is what Sookie had thought of me for all those years. That I was the delinquent who caused trouble to get his rocks off, and now the school was proving her old prejudices right. Except, this time, I wasn't guilty.

A horn sounded behind us. "Eric! I'm heading out. Nice to see you again Sooks!" Ingmar shouted as he pulled out of the Inlet's parking lot. Pam followed with a wave of her fingers. In their own annoying way, they were giving us privacy. I silently thanked Ingmar for that.

Sookie continued to rock on her heels. I'd never seen her looking so deflated before, and I wondered what exactly she was so torn up about.

Quiet followed the screeching of tires as they made a sharp right back towards the main road, and I cursed the silence. It was only when the sound of a sniffle reached my ears that I finally looked up from my examination of Sookie's fidgeting feet. Her lip was quivering, and her head was bowed, trying to hide her emotions.

"No fucking way," I said on an exhale, before I pulled her into me, and wrapped my arms around her. Awkward silence be damned. "You're not crying over this, Sookie. It's not important."

"Yes it is!" She punched my chest with the side of her fist, before she buried her head into my neck. The juxtaposition of such movements made me smile for the first time since morning.

"I'll deal with it."

"I hate that school. Fucking idiots." She was nuzzling her face into the crook of my neck as she cursed, and therefore her statement, as opposed to sounding angered, came out soft and almost sweet.

She hit me again with the side of her fist, and I grimaced. "Sookie, I'm not a punching bag." Her head pulled back, her eyes wide with shock.

"I'm sorry. Shit, I didn't realize," she replaced her fist with her lips and kissed where she had previous been letting out her anger. Even through the cotton of my shirt, I could feel the heat of her mouth.

"Mmmm..."

"Better?" She asked, looking up at me through her lashes.

"Fuck," I breathed. Sookie smiled playfully and then ducked her head again into the crook of my neck to resume her previous nuzzling. This time her tiny hands embraced my waist. I'd gone from punching bag to cuddle toy within thirty seconds.

What a strange bird my Sookie was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter I'll be reposting for a few. I have to find the rest. Thank you for reading and see you soon!


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly new formatting. Forgive me.

Burger was on the phone with someone when we entered Eric's house. He waved at us from the kitchen before motioning to a pile of home-cooked muffins on the countertop. Ingmar grabbed two, double fisting, and then hoisted himself up onto the table to eat with his legs criss-crossed underneath him.   
Eric didn't bother with the muffins, or even with throwing a head-nod towards his brothers in the kitchen.   
Instead, he pulled me up the stairs and into his room as fast as he could. I followed eagerly, thinking we were going to a quiet, brother-free place to chat and sort things out. To make a plan. I loved planning.   
I was mistaken.   
The second the door was closed, Eric pushed me back into to it, pressing his mouth to mine before I could even blink. A small sound of protest escaped my throat, just from surprise at his abruptness, before it turned into a deep moan as Eric's hips pressed firmly into mine. I hadn't yet become used to how intimate a gesture that was—that feeling of having someone else's body so close to mine, bearing weight down on me with the promise of something more. It made me squirm with nerves and anticipation simultaneously.   
Oh, Jesus... sex with Eric. My head spun at the thought, and my face flushed from my stupidity this afternoon. Or that could have been the lack of oxygen; I wasn't really sure.   
Eric pulled away at the exact moment I thought I was going to black out, as if he knew, and I gasped and gulped in air as his mouth nipped at my jaw and headed towards my throat. Sweet baby Jesus, what had gotten into him?   
"Eric." I tried to get his attention, but my voice sounded breathy, not assertive. I tried again, and his name came out as a moan on my lips, which caused him to press harder into me. Ung... Need. Space.   
To. Breathe...   
"Eric, what are you doing?" I was finally able to ask after swallowing hard and attempting to compose myself.   
"Kissing you," he growled. His hands gripped my hips tighter, and he bit down on my shoulder. I saw stars behind my eyes and threw my head back against the door. Thank god he had sweatshirts and beach towels hanging up, or I would have had one hell of a bump the next morning.   
"Jesus!" I shouted, and the deep rumble of a laugh vibrated in Eric's belly.   
"Hmm... he's not here, Sookie," he breathed against my throat before biting my neck and sucking hard on the skin. I moaned, pressed my hips to his, and clawed at his back. He was doing something to me, and I didn't understand it, but I sure as hell liked it.   
Boom boom boom! sounded directly behind my head. I winced and curled away from the door before another boom boom boom could bombard me.   
"Fuck off!" Eric yelled through the door, making me cringe. His face softened the second he saw my reaction, and his possessive hands went from fiercely holding onto my hips to softly encircling my shoulders. He wasn't angry at me, but he was starting to scare me a little. I didn't feel I was in any danger of being hurt; it just worried me that he seemed so different. His moods were never this erratic.   
"Eric, chill, man," Burger's voice filtered through the door. I instinctively held onto Eric tighter, hoping to somehow diffuse some of the calm he'd always given me back into him. "That was Missie on the phone.   
This is gonna be fine. She's gotten in touch with Ingmar's lawyer, and he told us what the deal was."   
"Kompis, right now, I couldn't give a shit if you paid me."   
"Bullshit, bro, you're freaking out. Sooks? Is he mauling you right now?"   
I felt my face redden and I hid myself in Eric's shirt, despite the fact that Burger couldn't see my reaction.   
If I were being honest with myself, Burger was pretty much dead on the money. What Eric was doing was very animalistic, and mauling did seem like a good verb to describe it.   
"Uhh-" I tried to say, but Burger cut me off.   
"See! Proof. You're diverting your feelings, dude. I know you too well. Don't try to hide it."   
"Fine," he seethed, pushing off the door and taking me with him. He squeezed the backs of my thighs and pulled me up, circling my legs around his waist before walking over to the French doors that led out to his balcony.   
"Eric?" I asked, nervous to interrupt whatever kind of internal struggle he was dealing with at the moment.   
"I'm fine, Sookie," he said to me, staring directly into my eyes. I saw sincerity behind his worried gaze, and nodded. I wasn't going to make him feel anything he didn't want to at the moment. He'd been so stoic at the inlet, but I guess even Eric let his emotions slip every once in a while.   
He curled me up on his lap and sat us down on the large wicker chair on the balcony. Burger was still knocking at the door (I assumed only out of courtesy, since I was pretty sure we hadn't locked it). I wondered how long he'd do that before catching on that Eric wasn't going to answer, and that he should probably just let himself in.   
"Sorry about that," Eric said a moment later, with Burger still knocking in the background.   
"For kissing me?"   
"No, for attacking you." 

"Eric, you didn't attack me-" I started to say, but he leveled me with a look and I shrugged, giving in.   
"Alright fine, that was sort of... aggressive. But that doesn't mean it was unwelcome."   
Eric's eyebrow lifted. "Oh really?"   
I slapped his shoulder. "Don't get cocky. I'm being nice 'cause you had a bad day."   
Eric didn't answer; he just sighed and looked out onto the water. I followed his gaze and stared at the jetty. It reminded me of the day he came and talked me down from my bad memories. I slumped into his chest, curling myself further into him. The comfort Eric brought me and the peace I felt around him were quickly becoming addictive. I could only hope that on a day like today, I could somehow help him like he had helped me so many times before.   
Christ, in terms of the emotional charity given between us, he was so winning. Talk about a guilt trip.   
"Uhh... guys?" Burger asked behind us.   
"What?" we said in unison, and Eric snorted. It was the first smile I'd seen on him since the inlet. Good, progress, I thought.   
"Well, I see the mauling has stopped, so that's a plus. I can talk now..." Burger started before launching into the information Missie and the lawyer had given them. Apparently, if the situation was as we all expected-that it was some kind of shitty set up-the person responsible for giving phony information would be interfering with an investigation and therefore wasting everyone's time. And cops didn't look too kindly upon the people who wasted their time for kicks. "We might even be able to press charges if we can... ya know, find the douche."   
"I don't give a shit about pressing charges; I just want mine to go away."   
"Well, technically," Burger hedged, "no charges have been-"   
"I know," Eric snapped, cutting Burger off. Burger's lips formed a tight line as he attempted to hide his smile.   
"Someone's feeling cwanky," he teased in a sing-songy voice.   
"You interrupted me kissing my girlfriend, dude; you'd be pissed, too."   
Ho now! What? I shot up from my relaxed position on Eric's lap and stared him in the face as Burger erupted with laughter behind us. "Excuse me?" I asked.   
Eric didn't even blink. He pulled me down towards him with his strong arms and kissed me. Hard.   
Burger's laughter continued in the background, but oddly enough, I didn't care. Neither did Eric, it seemed.   
I was just about to moan into the kiss when he pulled away. I was flushed, my lips were sore in a delicious way, and Eric's eyes were on me, boring into mine. I squirmed under his gaze, unable to speak. My mouth opened and closed a few times, but nothing came out. All I managed was a small "guh"   
that ended on a strange exhale. 

"That's what I thought," Eric said, satisfied, before he tucked me back into his chest. I blinked, looking out on the ocean. What just happened? I was Eric's girlfriend?   
Girlfriend. Me. Eric was my boyfriend. Boyfriend. Him.   
More blinking.   
I mean, I know we'd had one hell of a weekend, and I wore his sweatshirt, and I missed the fuck out of him when he was gone. (Dammit, I hated to admit that, even to myself.) But to actually put a name to it-a title… "Girlfriend," I breathed, unaware that I was saying it out loud.   
"Yup," Eric said above me. "Girlfriend."   
I'd been at Eric's for most of the day, happy to stay in his lap up on his balcony, but I needed to get home to Gran for dinner. Telling him so only earned me a glare and another round of kisses, no doubt intended to distract me, but I pulled away long enough to say goodbye to his brothers and grab a ride home with Burger. Eric, of course, tagged along. He hadn't really let me go the entire time, and I couldn't find it in myself to tell him to. I was happy with his affection. More so than I probably should have been.   
I fussed with myself as I ran up the drive towards my back porch after saying goodbye to Burger and Eric in the Jeep. I felt self conscious. I'd been kissing a boy most of the afternoon. If my messy hair wasn't a dead give away, my swollen lips would be. I prayed Gran wouldn't notice.   
"Gran!" I called as I walked in the back door, making sure to stomp my feet on the mat and kick off my shoes before stepping into the house.   
"In here!" she answered. I entered the kitchen a moment later to find Gran at the table reading a book, with Terry packing a bowl next to her.   
"Terry," I scolded, gesturing to the pot on the table and then throwing my hands on my hips. "Really? In the kitchen?"   
His eyes went wide. "Oh, I... um... your Gran said-"   
"It's fine, Terry. Don't worry, dear." Gran patted him on the hand soothingly. "He's had a bad day, Sookie; I'm fine with him relaxin' in the kitchen. Could you turn on the stove exhaust while you're up?"   
I was boggled-was she serious? "Uhh... sure." I stepped over to the stove to switch on the fan and noticed that the oven was on. "What's cooking?"   
"Oh, I made lasagna. Terry helped," Gran answered with another sweet smile directed at Terry. Giving him a good once over, I realized he was shaking, and his hair was a chaotic mess compared his normal, slicked-back 'do.   
"What happened today?" I asked, feeling the guilt seep into every pore, figuring that I wasn't there for my family when they needed me. Dammit. I slumped into a chair next to Terry and took the lighter out of his shaking hands to help him light the bowl. 

"It's fine, dear. Don't worry. Terry just put a batch of pottery into the kiln for me this afternoon for the first time since my fall."   
"Bad memories, man," Terry mumbled next to me, shaking his head. He took a drag a moment later, and I could see his body relaxing in response.   
"Shoot, I'm sorry I wasn't here."   
"Oh, nonsense." Gran waved an elegant hand through the air, one that showed all the years of hard work in every vein. "Terry's fine. I'm fine. The dinner is cooked, and you walked in here with a big ol'   
smile on your face. Spill."   
Terry offered me a hit off the bowl and I declined, so he took another drag of his own. I focused on the smoke twisting above us while trying to figure out how to tell my grandmother that the boy I liked was kicked out of school due to him being wrongly accused of being a drug dealer. That didn't seem like something she'd like to hear. The fact that I followed him back to his house, made out with him in his room, and had been declared his girlfriend was more up her alley.   
I decided to open with that. "Well-" I started with a small smile, but she cut me off.   
"Oh my, you kissed a boy, didn't you?" she asked, her eyes twinkling. Terry choked on the smoke in his lungs and coughed out harshly into the quiet of the kitchen. I sat stock-still, shocked.   
How the... "How'd you know?"   
"Your face gives it away. You're blushing. You never blush."   
"I could just be feverish, or embarrassed about something!" I tried to argue.   
"Nope. You kissed a boy. Unless... wait, did you kiss a girl?" Her eyebrow quirked, and Terry once again choked on the smoke he was trying to pull in from the bowl.   
"Dudes, come on, trying to chill here," he said, pushing back his chair and walking out onto the back porch. "Congrats Sooks," he called over his shoulder before the screen door swung shut behind him.   
"So, which is it?" Gran was sitting up straighter in her chair, her eyes bright with excitement. I blinked back at her.   
"Uhh... boy. I kissed a boy, Gran."   
"Oh," she slumped back down a bit, "too bad. I wanted to sing that silly song with you about kissing girls."   
"Gran!"   
"What? It's a cute song."   
I shook my head at her and looked out towards the back porch, where a haze of smoke had settled in Terry's wake. Suddenly, a drag off that thing didn't seem so unappealing.   
"For serious now, tell me what happened." Gran's eyes were bright, and she clasped her hands in front of her. She looked twenty years younger in that moment, and I smiled because of it.   
"To be honest, this wasn't the first time I kissed him..." I started to explain, ducking my head.   
"Of course not, you've been acting strange all weekend."   
Seriously, when did my grandmother become so damn observant? Or was I just that transparent? Either way, the woman was shocking me right and left, and I needed a moment to regroup. Badly. I mean, I know I was self-conscious walking into the kitchen, but I didn't actually think I'd been that obvious.   
"Uhh... yes. Well, this weekend was a little bit different than my normal Saturday/Sunday routine."   
"I would think. You weren't here for most of it," Gran shot back at me with a wink.   
"I'm sorry about that, Gran. I should have-"   
"Child, hush. I'm happy that you're getting out and spending time with people."   
"Okay, then."   
We both nodded at each other, happy with our mutual agreement, but then a weird silence fell. I'd never really talked to Gran about boys before. Certainly not about the clusterfuck that was Bill. I'd been too embarrassed to even broach the subject with her. Our generational gap seemed drastic; it wasn't as if I could pull out a pint of ice cream, sit down by the fire, and hash out all the dirty details with her about Eric. We had an extremely close relationship, but boy-talk was not on the menu of comfortable entrées in my book.   
Gran sighed and tapped her hand gently on the table to get my attention. I looked up and smiled at her, feeling awkward. "Sookie, you don't have to tell me everything. And frankly, if you're this nervous about it, I don't think I want to know all the details," she said with a smile. I tried to interrupt, but she continued right on over me. "I just want to know the basics. Certainly you can share those?"   
"Oh... yeah, I can do that," I said, feeling relieved. Slowly but surely, I started divulging all the details I felt comfortable giving her about Eric and his brothers. She smiled brightly the entire time. She especially enjoyed the stories about all the food Burger made on a regular basis and expressed how much she wanted to meet him. I got a kick out of picturing that particular introduction.   
I was still hesitant to tell her too much, though, for fear that I'd jinx things. Everything had happened so fast, after such a long build-up, that I was scared it would all disappear just as quickly.   
Regardless of my paranoia, when I went to bed that night after two servings of lasagna-we were all a little extra hungry from the contact high, thanks to Terry-and my long chat with Gran, I actually felt content with myself. I wasn't anxious or stressed about the coming day. Thoughts of what I was going to wear weren't plaguing me, and the fact that I hadn't straightened my hair after showering didn't bother me as I snuggled down into my pillow. I'd wake up to a mess of blonde waves, but it didn't matter. Gran was happy for me, and more importantly, she was healty. Terry was high as a kite and asleep on the sofa downstairs, snoring up a storm. And Eric... was my boyfriend. 

The next day when the alarm went off, I slapped my hand down on it the second I heard the buzzer ring.   
I was not in the mood to care. I slumped further into my pillows and sheets, savoring the warmth of my bed for the first time since... I didn't even know.   
Sleep had always been a burden to me. It was something I had to do in order to function. I'd never found any real need for it, though. I was normally ready to start the day after only two hours of rest, but I forced myself to stay in bed for a full seven because I knew it was expected of me.   
That morning, with the sun just seeping in through my curtains and the silence of the house feeling heavy in my ears, I desperately wanted to stay in bed. Sleeping felt like a very important thing to do all of a sudden.   
It might have had something to do with the dream I'd been having, but that was beside the point. It was only when Gran called upstairs that the coffee and eggs were ready that I begrudgingly fell out of bed and shuffled to the kitchen.   
"You're going to be late; you're not even dressed," Gran said the second I entered the bright, sun-filled room.   
"I know."   
She handed me a cup of coffee, and I took it willingly. "Mmm... thank you," I told her as I sipped it down.   
"You're welcome. Now, what's with the grunge look?" She gestured to my plaid pajamas and Eric's sweatshirt. I snorted into my cup.   
"I'm taking a mental health day."   
"Are those allowed?" Gran asked, genuinely interested. I snorted again.   
"Nope, I just feel like doing it today."   
"Oh, well, I guess that's alright. Are you feeling sick? Should I call the doctor?"   
"No, Gran. I'm just gonna..." I paused, searching for the right word, "relax today."   
Any normal mother would have sent her daughter straight back upstairs to get dressed and head out to school upon hearing such a declaration, but my Gran wasn't my mother, and our relationship was anything but conventional. She smiled down at me, winked, and said, "Good, you deserve a break. I'll be working with Terry out in the barn all day, so feel free to go on out for a walk or a trip to the beach if you want. The salt air has a very calming effect on me, I find." She then kissed the top of my messy bed-head and drifted out the door with her cup of coffee.   
I noticed then that her limp had almost completely abated, and she wasn't walking with her cane. I found myself beaming at such a happy observation.   
"Love you!" I shouted, needing to reiterate to her how much she meant to me. 

"Love you too. You be careful out there!" she called back. I listened to the soft crunch of the grass, covered with morning frost, crinkle under her footfalls. A moment after the sounds had faded, the creak of the old barn door cut through the quiet of the morning, signaling that she'd made it down the slope of our backyard just fine. Terry grunted behind me as he walked into the kitchen, and I told him that Gran had already headed to the barn. He nodded, poured himself a cup of coffee, saluted at me, and then walked out the door after her.   
He really should meet Eric's brothers, I thought to myself.   
I was on my second cup of coffee when a knock sounded on the door. I winced at the noise but got up out of my seat and trudged to the foyer. Didn't people know that I wanted to chill today?   
Wrenching it open, my face immediately reddened at seeing who was standing on my threshold: Eric, flanked by both of his brothers. I blinked back at him, expecting him to morph into the postman or something. He didn't.   
"Morning," he said, stepping in and bending down to kiss my lips. I was about to respond with a, "How the fuck did you know I was home?" kinda question, but he scooped me up and threw me over his shoulder too fast for me to even register the movement, so all that came out was an "Ouf!"   
We were already halfway up the stairs when Ingmar shouted, "We'll be in the car. Twenty minutes, kompis!"   
"Twenty minutes for what?" I asked, bouncing on his shoulder.   
"Shower, change, make-out. Though not necessarily in that order."   
Eric put me down before I could complain to be let down or tell him that I'd already showered the previous night, so I just stood there, my hair a mess of curls and my embarrassment rising as I realized that he, once again, was seeing me wear his clothes.   
God, I probably look pathetic right now.   
"Nice sweatshirt," he said, smirking. I managed a "pfft" before turning on my heel and closing the bathroom door in his face. "Need any help?"   
I could practically hear him leering through the door. Rolling my eyes, I answered, "Not on your life, Northman."   
"Is that how you treat all your men?" he shot back, and I dropped my toothbrush into the sink while squirting too much toothpaste out of the tube onto my hand.   
"Shit," I cursed as it all came rushing back to me. Crap, yesterday wasn't some crazy dream. Yesterday was real! I thought. I bent over and leaned on the counter, attempting to catch my breath. When I raised my head to look in the mirror, a large blond man was standing behind me.   
"Ah!" I shrieked before flinging my toothbrush, yet again, out of my hands. Eric caught it and handed it back to me as if it were nothing. 

"Thank you," I said, heaving as if I'd run a mile. He smiled at me through the mirror. He was having way too much fun with this. Cocky bastard.   
We stood there for a few tense moments, not saying or doing anything. I felt weird brushing my teeth in front of him, and he apparently felt fine with watching me squirm. In short, I didn't know how to proceed.   
"Sookie, the faster you brush your teeth, the faster I can kiss you properly," he said, giving my hips a squeeze that made my knees almost buckle and then slinking back out into the hall. I stared after him, stunned. He so wasn't playing fair!   
Needless to say, my time in the bathroom that morning was shortened by half, and my hair stayed a wavy mess. I had a new list of priorities, dammit, and straighteners didn't enter into the equation.   
"Eric," I started to say as I peeked outside the bathroom door, "how'd you know I was-" but I was cut off by two large hands gripping my hips and pulling me out into the hall. I practically flew into Eric's chest.   
"Whoa," was all I said as I stared up at a very excited Eric.   
"Pam texted me."   
"Huh?" I'd lost my train of thought inside his blue eyes. What about Pam?   
"She texted me saying you weren't in school. That's how I knew."   
"Oh," I answered. Brilliant, right?   
Eric followed me down the hall to my room like a lost puppy looking for a cup of food. His hands barely left my body the entire time. I had to laugh at the attention. I hadn't been touched this much by a single person... ever. Normally physical contact, outside of hugs from my grandmother, was irksome to me. I didn't like to be touched, really, but Eric's hands were different. His touches were sometimes aggressive, yes, but at the same time gentle. It was affection, not greed. It felt like he was giving rather than taking, and it was hard not to give into the feel of him and lean back... oh, how I wanted to lean back.   
Thankfully, Eric did give up on his overly curious exploration of my room so that I could change into a pair of jeans, a clean shirt, and a hoodie without having his excited eyes lingering on my naked limbs.   
These were extremely casual clothes for me, but I figured that since my hair was already a mess, I might as well not fuss about clothes, especially since I was going to be hanging around a bunch of boys all day.   
I smiled at the thought. Eric was at my house to pick me up, and we had an entire spontaneous day in front of us. Gah! I had to calm down before I turned into one of those fuckhappy, perky people who smiled all the time. Sweet Jesus, the horror.   
Knock, knock, "Sookie, not to rush you, but my bros are getting restless down there."   
"Alright," I said before opening the door. Eric took in the sight of me for a beat too long, I thought, considering I was just in jeans and a hoodie. He smoldered at me nonetheless, and I blushed under his intense gaze.   
"Your hair is different." His hand came up to play with a wavy tendril, and I wanted to push his fingers away, but the gesture was so sweet, I couldn't bring myself to do it. 

"I know, it's bad," I said, ducking my head.   
"No." My head shot up at his tone; he sounded so serious. "It's beautiful." The fingers that had been playing with my hair moved to my chin, guiding me forward. I leaned into Eric's body willingly this time as his lips softly pressed into mine. His mouth was cool and sweet tasting, matching the mint of my own.   
I could have stayed there and kissed him for the whole day if the damn sound of the General Lee horn hadn't honked out front, interrupting us. Eric pulled away and turned from me, crouching down almost onto the floor. I looked at him with a puzzled expression.   
"Lose something?"   
"Hop on."   
"Huh?"   
"Hop on," he said again, throwing a smirk at me over his shoulder.   
I didn't protest as I climbed onto his back, but I did tell him he was insane and way too energetic in the mornings. He threw his head back and laughed before heading down the stairs and out the front door towards the Jeep in the driveway.


	20. Thank you Thunder God

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the lovely Leckadams, I now have the rest of the previous posted chapters in my hands. Yay! This, of course, means that y'all get to benefit. 
> 
> These chapters need so much work. I cringe at the blatant mistakes I made way back when, but right now, I'll just get them up for people to read. I'll tweak and fix later. Enjoy!

The day had started out perfectly. Even the D-noz was behaving himself and sleeping in like a good little piss bag. I stretched and rolled on the bed once before remembering that there was no need for me to get up early since I was indefinitely suspended for a bogus charge, and my mood darkened considerably. The cheery weather shined on. 

The haze of dawn had burned off to an unseasonably warm morning filled with honey soaked biscuits and curious coffee that Burger said was from Budapest. Ingmar and I couldn't bring ourselves to care as we sipped the strange, sweet flavors and tried to ignore the cluster fuck the school had gotten me into, instead focusing on the sun hanging low over the water outside our front windows. 

Burger eyed the choppy surf with envy as a pair of dudes with boards trekked out to the shore donning seal skin and way too much swagger for their novice selves.

"I give 'em two waves before they quit. Pussies."

"Nah, five. It ain't that rough."

"They're in wet suits, man. Pussies." 

"I think you just like saying 'pussy'." 

"Your point?" 

"Three waves, one final attempt at a fourth, and then a turn around mid paddle," I cut in on my brothers' inane prattle. 

"You're on," they said in unison. Together we turned our heads and focused our bloodshot, tired eyes on the pseudo boys of summer heading out past the break.

Despite the fact that the questionable nature of the accusation was banging around my head like a pin-ball on a jackpot run, I kept up the faux pleasantries around the breakfast table to dissuade my brothers from worrying about me. I hadn't let Sookie get upset about the situation, and I sure as shit wasn't going to let my brothers stress either. Burger and Missie had already done enough for me with getting the information we needed from our lawyer and planning out our next course of action. There was no point in ruining a perfect morning by brooding about something out of my control.

After winning the bet and likewise, the final cup of sugar-high inducing coffee, I trudged off to the bathroom, only to have Burger follow. 

He leaned up against the bathroom vanity and reminded me again of our options as I showered and hummed loudly to drown him out behind the curtain. I shampooed and conditioned twice hoping he'd leave so I could bang one out, because ever since Sookie had showered in my house I couldn't think of stepping into the damn bathroom without getting hard.

A phone beep cut through the steam and I heard Burger fumbling to answer. 

"It's someone named Pam," he said, over the din of the cascading water. 

I grunted in response wondering why the hell he was reading my texts. 

"She says hi." Another grunt. "And that Sookie's not in school." 

I slammed my hand against the shower handle, cutting off the spray so hard the soaps and bottles rattled and fell to the tile floor. Burger's laughter filled the room.

"That got your attention." 

"Why isn't she in school?" 

I yanked a towel out from behind the curtain and dried myself, slinging it around my waist before stepping out of the shower. I grabbed the phone from Burger's hands and reread the text, confused and alarmed. 

"Dunno, kompis. Give her a call and ask." 

I was shutting my bedroom door in Burger's face not a moment later. Fuck calling, I was gonna drive over there and pounce. 

"We road trippin'?" Burger called through the door, the smile evident in his tone. 

"Yup." 

"Nice!" I heard before the obnoxious sound of a 6-foot-something man pounding down the stairs to the first floor echoed throughout the house. The noise woke the inferno and his bark followed. 

Five minutes later, I was reluctantly climbing into the backseat of the Jeep as opposed to the driver's seat of the Impala with a grimace on my face. My brothers had strong-armed me, insisting that there wasn't enough room in the backseat of the Impala for their legs. I begged to differ, but it was two against one, and Burger had hijacked my keys, holding them hostage. Fucker.

.  
.  
.

"Make a right at the next street." 

"That old, unmarked one?" 

"Yup." 

"How the fuck does Sooks ever get her mail? This street screams go away." 

I shrugged, even though Burger couldn't see me in the back seat. I liked the street. It was overgrown with brush and the low hanging branches of ancient trees. The two houses that made residence along the lane were set so far back from each other on the old road that their respective mailboxes were planted up at the entrance of the drive, before all the spooky tree branches got in the way to scare the postman. I guessed Burger had missed that. 

The trees released us from their claws as the road widened into a clearing that lead up to Sookie's driveway. There, sitting lonely and abandoned was her Nova. 

Ingmar eyed it with interest. "Poor thing needs some lovin'," he said, nodding his head towards the car. 

"I'm sure Sookie wouldn't mind if you gave it some."

"Really now?" Ingmar's face lit up with the prospect of a new project. I slapped him on the back of the head for the hell of it before jumping out and hauling ass to the front door. 

My hurry-up-and-wait routine didn't keep my brothers at bay. Both bastards flanked my sides a moment later as I impatiently brooded at the door, hoping Sookie would answer. Turned out, I got my wish. A rather irate Sookie wrenched open the door not a second later. Her hair was an adorable disarray of tangles and her body was draped, once again, in my too-small on me, too-large on her, sweatshirt. The damn thing never looked better. 

"Morning," I said, watching her turn from pale white to cherry red at the word.

I decided to skip the pleasantries. Stepping forward, I bent to kiss her once and then scooped her up, throwing her over my shoulder and bolting up the stairs. My brothers gave me twenty minutes, which really meant five. Ten if we were lucky and their combined attention spans didn't get the best of them. 

Sookie's expression didn't change as I followed her around the second floor, back and forth to the bathroom and her room, watching her fiddle with her things as her nerves got the best of her. She was too much fun to play with, jumpy as she was, but I kept myself focused. Giving into the urge to throw her on the bed was not going to fit into the ten minute plan.

But dammit, a teenager should not be expected to control these types of things. My girl was walking around with bed-head in my threads, in a seemingly empty house. The combination of those things did not lead to chaste thoughts, and therefore, when the General Lee started hollering down the front door, the head on top of my shoulders sighed in relief while the erection in my jeans cried. Poor thing. 

"Ride 'em, Sooks!" Burger shouted as we emerged on the front porch, Sookie perched astride my back. I could actually feel her face heat up as she buried it in the crook of my shoulder, her nose nuzzling into my hair. I almost wanted to thank Burger for making her blush, cause damn if it didn't feel nice having her squirm against me like that. 

The ride back to my house was excruciating at best. I thought it was a brilliant idea to plop Sookie on my lap to hide the bulge in my jeans from the prying eyes of my brothers who already made several crass-ass comments as I walked down the steps towards the car, but alas, I couldn't have been more wrong. Sookie's adorable little blushes as she curled into my chest only momentarily distracted me from the fact that we were going to be driving down a dirt road to get back out to the main street. And dammit if it didn't seem like there were ten times more bumps and grinds on the way back to my house than there had been coming from it. I eyed Burger in the rear-view mirror with full on malice in my eyes as he purposely swerved to hit yet another pot hole, sending Sookie off my lap into the air before she landed, her ass flush with my erection. For like...the twentieth time during the ride. I bit back the groan as my head fell back in both aggravation and pleasure from the friction.

Christ, sometimes I hated my brothers. 

By the time we got to the house, I was so keyed-up and frustrated, even moving my legs proved painful. Sookie looked back at me with concern as I hobbled to the house like an old man, my brothers cackling up ahead, but I waved her off before sitting down hard on the front porch and staring out at the water. 

_England._

_Queen of England._

_Queen of England... naked._

_Queen of England naked... playing baseball._

_Ugh. That one did it._

I was so focused on getting my blood flow to course its way through the rest of my extremities and back towards my brain where I needed it, that I almost didn't notice the change of pressure in the air as Sookie emerged back on the front porch. I could feel her at my back despite the lack of physical connection between us, and I reached for her blindly to sit her down next me on the step.

"How'd you-" 

"Felt you." 

"Oh." 

Silence followed, only to be filled with Sookie handing me a plate full of food and a mug smelling of the same sweet flavors of the coffee from earlier. I took them gratefully, and then surprised Sookie by spearing a strawberry with my fork and holding it in front of her mouth to eat. 

She glared at me before her face softened from the blush that crept up her cheeks. She took the strawberry between her lips with a cautious little giggle that only served to send my erection from half-mast to full-speed-ahead instantly. Did she even know what she did to me? Regardless, that bit of food-play was too good to only watch once. I picked a piece of french toast next and held it aloft, waiting for her to eat. 

"I already ate inside, Eric." 

"So?"

She folded her arms in defiance but still reached for the piece of bread on the fork as a drop of syrup escaped her lips and ran down her chin. I leaned forward to lick it clean, coursing a trail towards her mouth where I wanted to be. Her lips parted, her tongue sweet and slick from the sugar of the syrup. 

I moved the plate to the top step to free up my hands just as Sookie's weaved their way into my hair. We pressed up against each other, me struggling to drag her into my lap, her battling with the awkward angle of sitting on the steps yet turning towards me with all she could give. I had just managed to get her into my lap, straddling me and feeling heavy on my thighs when a car passed, its horn blasting through the heat we'd created and essentially causing Sookie to back off and hide her face in my neck. I gave the assholes in the car the finger as they drove by, cracking up behind the wheel like they'd just pulled the greatest prank ever. 

Fuck, were we ever going to not be interrupted? 

That question answered itself as my brothers walked out onto the porch, guitars and mugs of coffee in each hand. Ingmar was balancing a tambourine on his head like a hat. I sighed into Sookie's hair, not letting her go, but instead holding her tighter as Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dumb behind me started banging out "Little Ghost" on their instruments with gusto. Sookie rearranged herself so that she was sitting sideways on my lap to watch them, and I leaned back against a pillar on the porch, supporting us both as Burger stomped his feet to create a drum beat for Ingmar to follow.

The day passed that way: Sookie and I constantly touching, but not much else, while my brothers entertained and intruded on the time I would have much preferred to spend with Sookie alone. For some reason they'd taken more of a liking to the girl than I ever expected, and while that made me want to smile myself silly for what it meant, the pangs of jealously that came out of me when I'd see her laugh at their antics made me think I cared more for this girl than I'd actually let myself believe. 

The realization wasn't an unwelcome one, but more of a warning sign. Sookie's feelings were hard to read-guarded at best. Her reactions to my attentions were all positive but cautious. She never really let herself truly feel around me, except for that one time in my bedroom, but even that had ended badly. She'd been so overrun with repressed emotion, the girl cried and laughed simultaneously as if she couldn't figure out which response was appropriate. That gave me pause-considering the fact that she couldn't even trust her own feelings, how the hell would she ever be able to know what they were in the first place? 

Looking at her profile as we sat on the smoother rocks of the jetty while my brothers played Frisbee on the beach, I wondered how she really felt about me. Us. This new, crazy, twisted thing we were experimenting with. If she even allowed herself to ponder it. A rogue frisbee flew into my eyesight, silencing my emo melancholy. I palmed the fucker and tossed it back to my brothers. They were packing it in, getting ready to head back to the house for their boards. The tide had come in rather strong, and the waves threatening to crash past the break looked promising. 

"Wanna join?" They called as they jogged back up the sand. 

I shook my head, wanting to take advantage of the time alone with Sookie. 

"But, it's November. The water's freezing," Sookie said, staring at the waves as if they were offending her in some way. 

I laughed at her concern for my brothers before taking her hand and dragging her towards the water line. We'd left our shoes back at the house, so when we reached the boundary in the sand where wet met dry, our toes tingled with the drop in temperature. A wave crashed, its breadth swathing the shore in liquid fabric that ran towards Sookie's little toes and she shrieked, jumping back. I held onto her hand tighter, pulling her back towards me and the waves. 

"No, let it come," I told her, hoping she'd understand. Sookie stared up at me with a question in her eyes but I merely stepped closer to the water, wanting her to follow. With a tiny sigh of reluctance she did, and we both stood, resolute, as another wave crashed and came at us with the force of the tide. I watched Sookie, as opposed to the advancement of the water, unable to look away from her face. She gasped as the water hit her toes and splashed around our ankles. Her hand tightened in mine as her skin prickled, her back arching and her eyes closing from the surprise chill. She shivered and relaxed back into her body, her head staying lolled on her shoulders towards the sky as the water receded. She was perfect in that moment. Free and yielding. It physically hurt not to pull her to me and kiss her until we were both begging for breath, but I stayed still as a statue next to her, letting her ride out whatever she was feeling. 

The thunder clap that sounded above us, however, brought me out of my trance right quick. Thunder meant lightning, and lightning meant that standing in a pool of water was about as stupid as letting a drunk get behind the wheel with a baby in the car. 

Dragging Sookie from the shoreline, I darted towards the boardwalk back by the entrance to the beach-Sookie shouting my name through the din of the instantaneous downpour the entire time. She yanked on my hand hard halfway back towards the house and I spun on my heel staring down at her in surprise, wondering why on earth she was trying to stop me from getting us back to the house relatively dry. 

Something about the rain changed Sookie's demeanor from that of a questioning little girl, to a vixen with parted lips and heat in her eyes. She held my stare for a moment, stilling me into silence before she leaned her head back again and let the rain wash her face. At the first clap of thunder I had cursed the weather, but after seeing Sookie's face tilt up towards the streaks of rain, ash she opened her mouth to the lucky drops that would fall into her warmth and slide down her tongue, I took back my internal words and made a mental note to study up on how to perform a rain dance. Sookie wet and wanting were two very good, very dangerous, and very welcome things to my eyes. 

The wind kicked up, sending a shiver down my spine and causing Sookie's skin to prickle again, which-thank you thunder god-included a perking affect beneath her soaked sweater. Holding back a groan, I tugged on her arm again, begging her with my eyes to follow me before I exploded in front of her.

\----- 

TBC


End file.
